e  or 


IN  MEMORY  OF 

WILLIAM  C.  HABBERLEY 


The  Bachelor's   Christmas 

And  Other  Stories 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 


THE  ART  OF  LIVING.  With  135  Illustrations  by  C.  D. 
Gibson,  B.  W.  Clinedinst,  and  W.  H.  Hyde.  Squara 
12mo.  $2.50. 

THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS,  AND  OTHER  STOR 
IES.  With  21  Illustrations  by  C.  D.  Gibson,  I.  R.  Wiles, 
A.  B.  Wenzell,  and  C.  Carleton.  12mo,  $1.50. 

REFLECTIONS  OF  A  MARRIED  MAN.  12mo,  paper, 
50  cents;  cloth,  $1.00. 

The  Same.  Cameo  Edition.  With  an  Etched  Frontis 
piece.  16mo,  $1.25. 

THE  OPINIONS  OF  A  PHILOSOPHER.  Illustrated  by 
W.  T.  Smedley  and  C.  S.  Reinhart.  12mo,  $1.00. 

The  Same.  Cameo  Edition.  With  an  Etched  Frontis 
piece.  1  6mo,  $1.25. 

FACE  TO  FACE.     12mo,  paper,   50  cents;    cloth,  $1.25. 

JACK  HALL;  or.  The  School  Days  of  an  American  Boy. 
Illustrated  by  F.  G.  Attwood.  12mo,  $1.25. 

JACK  IN  THE  BUSH;  or,  A  Summer  on  a  Salmon  River. 
Illustrated  by  F.  T.  Merrill.  12mo,  $1.25. 


The  Bachelor's  Christmas 
and  Other  Stories.  By 
Robert  Grant 


Illustrated  by  C.  D.  Gibson,  I.  R.  Wiles 
A.    B.    Wenzell,    and    C.    Carleton 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York  ^rrrr:  1895 


Copyrigbt,  1895,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


GiFi 


TROW  DIRECTORY 

PRINTING  AND   BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


G-763 


B 


NOTE 

Of  the  following  stories,  "In  Fly-time," 
"Kichard  and  Kobin,"  and  "By  Hook  or 
Crook  "  appeared  originally  in  Harper's  Mag 
azine,  from  which  they  are  here  republished, 
together  with  their  illustrations,  through  the 
courtesy  of  Messrs.  Harper  &  Brothers ;  the 
others  appeared  in  Scribners  Magazine. 


M617437 


CONTENTS 

Page 

The  Bachelor  s  Christmas,    .    .  '     i 
An  Eye  for  an  Eye,    ....      5^ 

///  Fly-time, //5 

Richard  and  Robin, 167 

The  Matrimonial  Tontine  Benefit 
Association, 211 

By  Hook  or  Crook, 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

(t  Wish  you  merry  Christmas,  and— 

and  here's  to  her ! "    .    .    .    •    Frontispiece 

F***g 

page 

Alone  in  his  bachelor's  quarters  on  Christ 
mas  Eve, 4 

The  wreaths  of  holly  were  the  nearest  sem 
blance  to  faces,  and  they  seemed  almost 
to  grin  at  him, 20 

One  of  those  icy  glances  which  made  him 

yearn  to  cut  his  throat, 26 

"Come  in,  George,  don't  he  afraid,"  said 

Tom.     "  Tbey  won't  bite,"    ....      44 

Quite  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  occasion, 

he  was  down  on  his  knees,    ....      50 


viii  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing 
page 

" I had  a  cousin  jits'  your build,"    .    ...  124 

"  I  almost  wish  I  had  let  the  George  Wash 
ington —  ' 742 

"  Dinner!" 144 

"  Mine's  a  head/'  said  the  Professor,    .    .  146 

"  My  husband  is  tired  and  run  down,"    .  752 

A  solitary  figure  perched  on  a  fence,     .     .  760 

She  lingered  below  to  examine  the  sketch,  .  188 

A  face  looked  back  at  me, 198 

The  tenth  annual  dinner — <(  She  threw  me 

over" 222 

Horace  had  been  escorting  the  unknown  in 

question  home  from  church,    ....  234 

' '  Why   they    are    diamonds  —  real    dia 
monds!"    250 

After  the  theatre  party, 270 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS  ix 

Facing 
page 

"  I  am  going  to  take  you  into  my  confi 
dence,"  286 

Mr.  Baker  bad  vanished, 298 

He  was  talking  to  her  with  an  intense 

manner, 3°4 


THE    BACHELOR'S 
CHRISTMAS 


THE     BACHELOR'S 
CHRISTMAS 


THOMAS  WIGGIN,  or  Tom  Wiggin,  as 
everyone  called  him,  sat  alone  in  his 
bachelor  quarters  on  Christmas-eve,  waiting 
for  a  carriage.  The  carriage  was  not  late,  but 
Tom,  who  was  a  methodical  man  in  everything 
he  did,  had  finished  his  preparations  a  little 
sooner  than  need  be.  His  fur  coat  and  hat 
and  gloves  lay  on  a  chair  beside  him,  ready 
to  put  on  the  moment  Bridget,  the  maid, 
should  knock  at  the  door  and  tell  him  that 
Perkins,  the  cabby  at  the  corner,  was  block 
ing  the  way.  Tom  had  already  taken  out  of 
his  pocket  two  ten-dollar  gold  pieces  and 
laid  them  on  the  centre-table  beside  an  array 
of  packages  done  up  with  marvellous  care  in 
the  whitest  of  paper  and  the  reddest  of  rib 
bon.  One  of  the  gold  pieces  was  for  Bridget 
and  the  other  for  Perkins.  Twice  the  sum 


4:  THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

would  not  have  replaced  the  crockery  and 
objects  of  virtu  which  the  Hibernian  hand 
maiden,  who  brought  up  his  breakfast  and 
was  supposed  to  keep  his  room  tidy,  had 
smashed  since  he  had  tipped  her  last ;  and 
Tom  had,  only  two  months  before,  under 
gone  the  melancholy  experience  of  falling 
through  the  bottom  of  Perkins's  coupe,  be 
cause  of  the  pertinacity  with  which  that 
common  carrier  of  passengers  clung  to  the 
delusion  that  no  repairs  to  a  vehicle  were 
necessary  until  it  dropped  to  pieces.  » But  as 
Tom  would  have  said  if  interrogated  on  the 
subject  by  a  subtler  mind,  Christmas  comes 
but  once  a  year,  and  though  Bridget's  best 
wras  her  worst,  she  had  tried  to  do  it,  and 
Perkins,  shiftless  as  he  was,  had  driven  his 
poor  old  nag  one  day  into  a  pink  lather  in 
endeavoring  to  catch  a  train  for  him,  which 
he  had  just  missed  after  all. 

Besides,  Tom  had  had  a  remarkably  good 
business  year,  so  that  a  ten-dollar  gold  piece 
did  not  seem  to  him  the  dazzlingly  large  sum 
he  had  regarded  it  ten  years  earlier.  He 
had  lived  in  these  same  bachelor  lodgings 
for  ten  years,  and  during  that  time  had  built 
up  a  very  neat  business  by  his  own  unaided 


ALONE   IN   HIS   BACHELOR   QUARTERS   ON  CHRISTMAS   EVE 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS          5 

effort,  as  his  contemporaries  (and  contempo 
raries  are  apt  to  be  stern  critics)  were  ready 
to  admit.  He  had  worked  hard  and  steadily, 
taking  only  enough  vacation  to  enable  him 
to  keep  well,  and  shunting  everything  to  the 
background  which  threatened  to  interfere 
with  the  object  he  had  in  view— that  is, 
ever}*thing  but  one  thing.  And  this  one 
thing  he  had  made  up  his  mind  five  years  ago 
was  out  of  the  question.  Consequently  he 
had  shunted  it  to  the  background  with  every 
thing  else,  and  devoted  himself  more  unre 
servedly  than  ever  to  the  real  estate  busi 
ness. 

Ten  years  is  quite  a  piece  out  of  any  man's 
life,  and  though  Tom  "Wiggin  was  the  picture 
of  health,  he  was,  as  we  say  colloquially,  no 
longer  a  chicken.  He  was  stouter  than  he 
had  been  and  had  lost  some  of  his  hair, 
which  gave  him  rather  a  middle-aged  appear 
ance,  or  at  least  suggested  that  he  never 
would  see  thirty-five  again.  "When  he  had 
taken  his  present  room  he  had  been  a  slim 
and  almost  delicate-looking  stripling  without 
a  copper,  whom  any  girl  might  be  likely  to 
fancy.  To-day,  in  his  own  estimation  and  in 
that  of  his  friends  and  acquaintances,  he 


6  THE  BACHELORS  CHRISTMAS 

a  well -seasoned  old  bachelor  who  was  not 
likely  to  ask  any  one  feminine  to  share  his 
comfortable  competency. 

Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year,  and  Tom 
had  for  several  years  past  been  in  the  habit 
of  recognizing  the  fact  in  his  special  way.  He 
was  extensively  an  uncle.  That  is  to  say,  he 
had  two  married  sisters,  one  with  five  and  the 
other  with  three  children  of  tender  age,  and 
each  of  his  two  married  brothers  had  present 
ed  him  with  a  nephew  and  niece  of  the  name 
of  Wiggin.  Categorically  speaking,  he  had 
seven  nephews  and  five  nieces  to  provide 
with  Christmas  gifts,  not  to  mention  his  two 
sisters  and  his  two  sisters-in-law,  all  of 
whom  had  grown  accustomed  to  expect  a 
package  in  white  paper  tied  with  pink  rib 
bon  and  marked  "with  love  and  a  merry 
Christmas  from  Tom."  Here  were  sixteen 
presents  to  begin  with,  and  there  were  apt  to 
be  almost  as  many  more.  On  this  particular 
Christmas  evening  there  were  thirty-five  par 
cels  in  all,  each  done  up  with  immaculate 
care,  for  Tom,  like  most  other  bachelors, 
prided  himself  on  doing  everything  in  a  thor 
ough,  deliberate  fashion.  He  had  made  his 
last  purchase  a  fortnight  ago,  and  had  spent 


THE  BACHELOR'S   CHRISTMAS  7 

two  entire  evenings  in  putting  the  array  of 
toys  and  fancy  goods  in  presentable  order. 
They  were  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  for  Tom 
had  paled  neither  before  bulk  nor  price. 
There  was  a  safety  bicycle  for  a  nephew  who 
had  set  his  heart  on  one,  and  the  tiniest  of 
gold  watches  for  his  eldest  niece.  There  was 
a  warm,  fur-lined  cloak  for  his  dead  mother's 
oldest  friend,  a  spinster  lady  who  had  small 
means  wherewith  to  keep  herself  comfortable 
in  a  cold  world,  and  a  case  of  marvellous  port 
for  his  old  chum,  Belden,  who  would  see 
that  it  was  not  wasted  on  unappreciative 
palates.  Every  thing  was  ready  for  the  sum 
mons  from  Perkins,  the  cabby,  and  Tom, 
bald-headed  bachelor  that  he  was,  was  fum 
ing  a  little  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  still 
lacked  three  minutes  of  the  hour  appointed 
for  departure. 

The  clock  in  the  neighboring  church  tower, 
whose  tones  were  plainly  audible  in  the  sky 
parlors  which  he  called  his  home,  had  only 
just  struck  five  when  the  tramp  of  feet  fol 
lowed  by  a  knock  announced  the  joint  arrival 
of  Bridget  and  Perkins,  to  whom  he  had  in 
trusted  the  duty  of  helping  him  to  carry  his 
precious  parcels  down  three  flights  of  stairs 


8  THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

to  the  attendant  cab.  This  was  the  sixth 
consecutive  year  Bridget  and  Perkins  had 
done  the  same  thing,  and  they  thought  they 
knew  what  to  expect.  But  they  had  count 
ed  without  their  host.  A  year  ago  they 
had  chuckled  for  forty-eight  hours  over  a 
five-dollar  bill  apiece.  Now,  when  they 
opened  the  door  and  presented  their  grin 
ning  countenances,  their  benefactor,  after 
shouting  at  them  a  merry  Christmas,  pro 
ceeded  to  daze  their  intellects,  of  every  par 
ticle  of  which  they  stood  in  sore  need  for  the 
purpose  of  a  safe  descent,  by  tossing  to  each 
of  them  a  gold  coin  of  twice  the  denomina 
tion.  For  some  moments  they  stood  in  be 
wildered,  sheepish  silence,  examining  their 
treasure,  as  though  to  make  certain  it  was 
genuine ;  then  Bridget,  taxing  her  intelli 
gence  for  a  suitable  expression  for  the  wealth 
of  feeling  at  her  heart,  exclaimed  : 

"  And  sure,  Mr.  Wiggin,  it's  Bridget  Lan- 
agan  that's  hoping  that  before  the  good  Lord 
brings  anither  Christmas-day  the  proudest 
lady  in  the  land  will  be  yer  wife.  It's  me 
and  Perkins  would  be  the  first  to  say  '  God 
bless  her,'  though  we  lost  a  good  job  by  it." 
At  this  prodigal  outburst  of  expectation  Tom 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS  9 

"Wiggin's  countenance  grew  rosy-red,  notwith 
standing  the  incredulous  laugh  with  which  he 
received  the  blessing  of  his  warm-hearted 
handmaiden  and  the  nods  of  the  less  nimble- 
witted  cab-man.  Then  a  shadow  crossed  it 
as  though  of  unhappy  recollection,  and  there 
was  a  tinge  of  real  hopelessness  in  his  half- 
j ocular  protestation. 

"  Many  thanks,  Bridget,  for  your  good 
wishes,  but  there's  no  such  luck  in  store  for 
me.  I  shall  live  and  die  an  old  bachelor 
such  as  you  see  me  now,  and  you  and  Perkins 
will  be  able  to  count  on  a  ten-dollar  gold 
piece  on  Christmas-eve  for  the  rest  of  your 
lives.  That  is,"  Tom  added  by  way  of  timely 
warning,  "  provided  you  don't  smash  any  of 
these  things  of  mine  in  carrying  them  down 
stairs.  You  remember  that  the  pair  of  you 
last  year  between  you  broke  a  teacup  worth 
its  weight  in  gold,  and  the  year  before  that 
large  vase  broke  itself.  If  everything  were 
to  go  down  safely  I  should  almost  begin  to 
believe  that  what  Bridget  hopes  might  come 
true.  Careful  now,  and  be  sure  not  to  lay 
that  bicycle  right  on  top  of  the  gilt-edged 
dinner-plates  for  my  sister  Mary." 

Whether  it  was  that  Tom's  strictures  in  re- 


10          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

gard  to  the  clumsiness  of  his  assistants  were 
exaggerated,  or  they  were  bent  on  causing 
him  to  repose  trust  in  Bridget's  prophecy,  the 
thirty -five  packages  reached  the  cab  and  were 
stowed  within  and  without,  under  their  owner's 
supervising  eye,  without  a  single  casualty. 

"  Faith,  Mr.  Wiggin,  they'll  be  taking  yer 
this  time  for  Santa  Glaus,  sure,"  said  Perkins 
when  the  last  precious  parcel  had  been  de 
posited.  "  Yer'll  have  to  ride  outside,  sir,  as 
yer  did  last  year." 

Evidently  the  gaping  file  of  small  boys 
which  had  formed  itself  on  each  side  of  the 
doorway  was  of  the  opinion  that,  if  the  gen 
tleman  in  the  fur  coat  was  not  Santa  Glaus, 
he  was  one  of  his  blood-relations,  for,  as  Tom 
climbed  carefully  to  his  post  beside  Perkins 
so  as  not  to  hazard  the  safety  of  the  bicycle 
and  the  box  of  port,  for  which  there  was  no 
room  inside,  they  broke  out  into  a  shrill 
hurrah.  Perhaps  they  too,  or  at  least  some 
of  them,  knew  what  they  had  to  expect,  for 
before  Santa  Glaus  seated  himself  on  the 
box  he  plunged  his  hands  into  the  side  pock 
ets  of  his  far  overcoat,  and  then  reproducing 
them,  seemed  to  toss  them  high  to  the  winds, 
as  he  cried,  with  gay  good- will : 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         11 

"  Scramble  now,  you  little  devils,  scramble, 
and  wish  you  merry  Christmas  !  " 

What  Tom  flung  to  the  winds  was  neither 
his  fingers  nor  his  thumbs,  but  a  plethora  of 
bright  nickels  which  he  had  drawn  from  the 
bank  for  the  express  purpose.  As  the  glitter 
ing  shower  of  brand-lie  \v  five-cent  pieces  fell 
to  the  icy  sidewalk,  the  band  of  urchins 
threw  themselves  upon  it  with  a  shout  of 
transport  which  drew  tears  from  the  eyes  of 
the  tender-hearted  Bridget,  who  had  re 
mained  to  witness  this  established  ceremony, 
and  ought  to  have  warmed  the  cockles  of  the 
donor's  heart,  if  indeed  they  needed  warm 
ing.  Twice  again  he  replunged  his  hands  in 
to  his  pockets  and  twice  again  the  yell  was 
repeated.  Then  seating  himself  beside  Per 
kins,  Tom  gave  the  signal  for  departure,  and 
as  the  cab  rounded  the  corner  a  score  of  little 
lungs  gavo  him  back  his  merry  Christmas 
with  all  their  might. 

It  was  a  genuine  Christmas-eve.  The 
ground  was  covered  with  snow  and  the 
sleigh-bells  were  jangling  merrily.  The  lamps 
were  already  lighted,  and  many  a  parlor  win 
dow  gave  out  the  reflection  of  wreaths  of 
holly,  and  now  and  again  sparkled  with  little 


12          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

rows  of  candles  in  token  of  the  precious 
Christmas  anniversary.  Perkins's  coupe  was 
on  wheels,  and  his  equine  paradox  was  im 
perfectly  caulked  into  the  bargain,  so  that 
the  world  seemed  to  be  rushing  by  them  as 
they  jogged  along.  Tom  had  a  list  which  ho 
from  time  to  time  consulted  by  the  allied 
light  of  the  moon  and  the  street-lamps,  in 
order  to  see  that  his  itinerary  was  accurately 
followed  and  no  one  forgotten.  At  every 
house  he  dismounted  in  person  and  handed 
in  his  present.  When  he  reached  the  resi 
dence  of  his  sister,  Mary  Ferris,  who  was  the 
mother  of  the  five  children,  he  had  to  make 
four  trips  up  and  down  the  door-steps.  His 
sister,  who  was  listening,  recognized  his  voice 
and  came  into  the  vestibule  to  meet  him,  and 
her  children,  bounding  in  her  wake  like  an 
elated  pack  of  wolves,  shouted  with  one 
tongue, 

"  Hurrah  !  it's  Uncle  Tom." 

Mrs.  Ferris  sent  them  scampering  upstairs 
in  double-quick  time  on  pain  of  dire  penal 
ties  if  they  peeped  or  listened,  and  fondly 
drew  her  brother  into  the  small  sitting-room 
which  opened  out  of  the  hall. 

"  I  can't  stop,  Mary,"  he  said ;  "  I'm  on  my 


THE  BACIIKLOR'S  CHRISTMAS         13 

annual  circuit.  Now  let's  see  if  I've  got 
everything.  Here's  the  bicycle  for  Roger, 
junior.  They  call  it  '  a  safety/  and  I  trust  it 
may  prove  so.  And  the  Noah's  ark,  the  larg 
est  one  made,  for  Harry  ;  and  a  musical  box, 
which  plays  eight  tunes,  for  Dorothy  ;  and  a 
doll  which  sings  '  Ta-ra-boom-de-ay '  for  lit 
tle  Mary  ;  and  a  woolly  lamb  for  baby  Ned. 
And  here's  a  trifle  in  the  crockery  line  for 
you,  my  dear.  If  you  don't  like  the  pattern 
you  can  change  them.  Now  I  must  be  off. 
How's  Eoger,  senior?  Give  him  my  love 
and  a  merry  Christmas." 

"He'll  be  at  home  very  soon,  Tom,  and 
dreadfully  sorry  to  have  missed  you.  The 
children  are  just  crazy  about  their  stockings, 
and  little  Eoger  had  given  up  all  hope  of  a 
bicycle.  You  are  too  generous  to  them  and 
to  all  of  us.  And,  oh,  Tom,"  she  added,  lay 
ing  her  hand  upon  his  arm,  "  I  feel  dread 
fully  that  we  shan't  have  you  with  us  at  din 
ner  to-morrow,  but  old  Mr.  Ferris  depends 
on  Roger  and  me  for  Christmas.  He  says 
it  may  be  the  last  time,  and  that  Christ 
mas  is  the  Ferris  day.  Thanksgiving  is  the 
Wiggin  day,  you  know,  and  we  did  have  a 
jolly  time  then ;  yet  I  just  hate  to  think  of 


14:          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

your  not  dining  with,  one  of  us  on  Christmas. 
How  can  it  be  helped,  though,  if  all  the 
things-in-law  have  family  parties  ?  " 

"  Why,  that's  all  right,  Mary.  As  you  say, 
Thanksgiving  is  the  Wiggin  day,  and  things- 
in-law  have  rights,  as  well  as  those  they 
marry.  Merry  Christmas,  dearest,  and  let 
me  go,  or  I  shall  never  get  through  my  list." 

"  Ah,  but,  Tom  love,  I  do  wish  you  were 
married,"  she  cried,  putting  her  arms  around 
his  neck  to  detain  him.  She  was  his  favor 
ite  sister,  and  free  to  introduce  dangerous 
topics  with  due  discretion.  "  You  would  be 
so  much  happier." 

"  Do  I  seem  so  miserable  ?  "  he  inquired, 
as  he  looked  down  at  her  and  stroked  her 
hair.  "That's  an  old  story,  Mary.  I've 
heard  you  express  the  same  wish  every  six 
months  for  the  last  ten  years.  Every  family 
should  have  one  old  bachelor,  at  least,  and  I 
shall  be  ours." 

She  was  silent  for  an  instant.  "Do  you 
ever  see  Isabelle  Hardy,  nowadays  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  brave  insistence.  "  I  have  some 
times  thought  " — she  stopped,  deterred  from 
completing  her  sentence  by  the  shadow  which 
had  come  over  Tom's  face. 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS        15 

He  gently,  but  firmly,  removed  his  sister's 
arms  from  his  neck,  and  answered  gravely, 
almost  stiffly,  "  Very  rarely  indeed."  Then, 
with  a  fresh  access  of  gayety,  as  though  he 
were  resolved  that  nothing  foreign  to  the  oc 
casion  should  mar  its  spirit,  he  cried  lustily, 
"  A  merry  Christmas  to  you,  Mary  !  "  and  de 
parted. 

Continuing  steadily  on  his  round,  Tom  de 
livered  safely  the  case  of  port,  and  the  fur- 
lined  cloak,  and  brought  up  in  the  next  street, 
in  front  of  his  brother  Joe's  house.  Here 
he  was  to  leave  the  gold  watch  for  his  eldest 
niece,  a  generous  box  of  bonbons  for  his  sis 
ter-in-law,  a  tool-chest  for  young  Joe,  and  a 
first  edition  of  "  Vanity  Fair  "  for  Joe  him 
self,  who,  though  not  particularly  well  off, 
was  a  rabid  book  collector.  Tom  had  dogged 
an  auctioneer  for  two  days  to  make  sure  of 
obtaining  the  volume  in  question,  which,  so 
far  as  he  could  see,  was  like  as  two  peas  to 
the  subsequent  issues  of  the  same  book  to 
be  bought  anywhere  for  a  song.  He  was 
convinced  of  his  mistake  when  he  saw  his 
brother's  face  light  up  at  sight  of  the  treas 
ure-trove  and  heard  his  delighted  inquiry, 
"  Where  on  earth  did  you  pick  this  up,  Tom? 


16          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

You  couldn't  have  given  me  anything  I'd 
rather  have." 

"  Glad  you  like  it,  Joe.  If  it  isn't  the  real 
thing,  I'll  have  the  hide  of  that  fellow,  Nev- 
ins,  who  sold  it  to  me." 

"  The  real  thing  ?  It's  a  genuine  first  edi 
tion  and  a  splendid  specimen.  It's  adorable. 
I  say,  old  fellow,  it's  an  outrage  that  we're 
to  dine  with  Julia's  father  to -morrow  and 
leave  you  out  in  the  cold.  Another  year  I 
mean  to  strike  and  have  a  Wiggin  Christinas 
dinner,  Thanksgiving  or  no  Thanksgiving. 
Mary  and  I  were  comparing  notes  yesterday, 
and  vowing  it  was  an  infernal  shame." 

"  Now,  it's  all  right  as  it  is,  Joe.  I've  just 
left  Mary,  and  I  understand  perfectly.  You've 
got  enough  to  do  to  digest  your  father-in- 
law's  mince  pie  and  Madeira  without  having 
me  on  your  stomach." 

"A  regular  old-fashioned  ten-course  feed, 
where  you  sit  down  at  seven  and  get  up  at 
half-past  ten  feeling  like  lead.  Ugh !  Where 
are  you  going  to  dine,  Tom  ?  " 

"  No  matter.  That's  my  secret.  I  shall 
have  a  good  dinner,  never  you  fear.  I  must 
be  off  now  and  deliver  the  rest  of  my  goods." 

"  It's  an   outrage — an   infernal    outrage," 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         17 

growled  Joe.  "  Before  you  go,  old  man,"  he 
said,  hooking  his  arm  into  his  brother's,  and 
dragging  him  in  the  direction  of  the  dining- 
room,  "  we'll  have  a  drink.  I  put  a  pint  of 
fizz  on  the  ice  this  morning  for  your  special 
benefit.  It  won't  take  two  minutes  to  mix 
the  cock-tail."  Thereupon  Joe  gave  the 
bell-handle  a  wrench,  and  directed  that  the 
bottle  in  the  ice-chest  should  be  brought  up 
together  with  the  cracked  ice  which  he  had 
ordered  to  be  in  readiness,  and  in  a  very 
short  space  of  time  the  white-capped  maid 
reappeared  with  a  waiter  laden  with  all  the 
necessary  ingredients  for  the  delectable  bev 
erage  in  question.  Joe  carefully  measured 
out  some  bitters,  pop  went  the  cork  of  the 
Perrier  Jouet,  and  presently  the  brothers 
were  looking  at  each  other  over  two  brim 
ming  glasses. 

"  Wish  you  merry  Christmas,  Joe." 
"Wish  you  merry  Christmas,  Tom.  And 
here's  to  her."  Joe  paused  an  instant  before 
he  drank  to  add,  "  It's  a  big  mistake  you're 
not  married,  Tom.  All  I  can  say  is  some 
girl  is  losing  a  first-class  husband.  I  say 
here's  to  her." 

Tom,  who  had  waited  at  the  words,  raised 
2 


18          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

his  glass  solemnly.  "  There  is  no  her  and 
there  never  will  be,"  he  said,  with  quiet  de 
cision.  "  Still,  since  you  give  the  toast,  Joe, 
I'll  drink  it.  It's  not  poisonous,"  he  added, 
with  a  wry  smile — "  so  here's  to  her."  He 
drained  his  glass  and  set  it  down  on  the 
waiter,  then  for  an  instant  stood  ruminantly 
with  his  back  to  the  open  fire.  "  The  drink 
was  better  than  the  toast  in  my  case,  Joe. 
My  her  must  have  died  in  infancy." 

"  Honest  Injun,  Tom  ?  "  asked  Joe,  as  he 
gripped  his  brother's  hand  held  out  for  a 
parting  shake  and  looked  into  his  face. 

Tom's  eyes  quailed  before  the  honest  gaze. 
His  lip  quivered.  "  I'm  an  infernal  liar,  Joe, 
and  you  know  it.  But  what's  the  use  ?  She 
wouldn't  have  me,  man — and  there's  no  one 
else  whom  I  want  to  have.  So,  merry  Christ 
mas,  Joe,  and  God  bless  you  and  yours." 

As  he  went  out  into  the  frosty  night  the 
clock  in  the  hall  struck  half -past  six.  There 
were  only  five  parcels  left  and  the  coupe  was 
nearly  empty.  Tom  opened  the  door  'and 
stepping  inside,  lay  back  wearily.  Present 
ly  he  picked  up  one  of  the  parcels — it  was  a 
book  apparently,  from  its  shape — and  laid  it 
at  his  side.  When  Perkins  drew  up  the  next 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS        19 

time,  Tom  gathered  up  the  remaining  four 
and  ran  up  the  steps  with  them.  They  were 
for  his  sister  Kitty  and  her  little  company, 
and  he  spent  a  few  moments  indoors  to  ex 
plain  matters.  When  he  reappeared  he  said 
to  his  conductor,  "  114  Farragut  Place,  arid 
then  to  the  Club." 

Tom  sat  inside  with  the  remaining  package 
resting  on  his  lap,  nervously  watching  for  the 
cab  to  stop.  They  halted  presently  before  a 
spacious  house,  the  old  fashioned  aspect  of 
which  was  heightened  by  the  curved  iron 
railing  which  ran  along  the  flight  of  steps 
leading  up  to  it.  Just  before  the  cab  stopped 
Tom  had  taken  a  note  from  his  breast  pocket, 
and,  after  looking  round  him  stealthily  in  the 
darkness,  had  kissed  the  envelope.  Now  he 
tucked  it  under  the  red  ribbon  of  the  remain 
ing  package,  and  walking  gravely  up  the 
steps,  rang  the  bell.  There  was  nothing  in 
the  envelope  but  his  visiting  card,  on  which 
he  had  written,  "  with  best  wishes  for  a  merry 
Christmas."  When  the  servant  came  to  the 
door  Tom  said,  "  Will  you  please  give  this  to 
Miss  Isabelle  Hardy."  Then  the  door  closed 
in  his  face  and  he  went  solemnly  down  the 
steps  again.  On  reaching  the  now  empty 


20          TUB  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

cab  he  glanced  over  his  shoulder  as  though 
in  hope  of  catching  a  face  at  the  window,  but 
every  shade  was  down,  and  the  wreaths  of 
holly  were  the  nearest  semblance  to  faces, 
and  they  seemed  almost  to  grin  at  him.  And 
well  they  might.  It  was  the  fifth  year  in 
succession  that  he  had  gone  through  exactly 
this  same  pantomime.  Tom  heaved  one 
deep  sigh  ;  then  he  straightened  his  shoul 
ders  and  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes  as 
though  he  were  sweeping  away  an  unprofit 
able  vision. 

"  To  the  club,"  he  repeated  sturdily  to 
Perkins.  "  And  now,"  he  said  to  himself,  as 
he  shrouded  himself  in  his  fur  coat  and  put 
up  his  feet  on  the  opposite  cushion,  "  the 
question  is  how  to  make  the  best  of  a  devil 
ish  poor  outlook.  I  mean  to  have  a  merry 
Christmas  somehow." 


II 

THOUGH  it  was  dinner  time,  there  were  few 
men  in  the  club  when  Tom  entered  it.  Still 
there  was  a  half-dozen  familiar  spirits  loung 
ing  in  the  sitting-room,  most  melancholy 


THE   WREATHS   OF   HOLLY   WERE    THE   NEAREST   SEMBLANCE   TO 
FACES,   AND   THEY    SEEMED   ALMOST   TO   GRIN   AT   HIM 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         21 

among  whom  was  Frazer  Bell,  a  bachelor  far 
gone  in  the  forties,  an  epicure,  but  poor  as  a 
church  mouse. 

"  Just  the  man,"  said  Tom  to  himself,  and 
he  drew  him  aside. 

"Will  you  dine  with  me  to-night, Frazer ?" 

"  Er — I  have  just  ordered  dinner,  but — 

"Then  I'll  countermand  it,"  interposed 
Tom  blithely,  by  way  of  relieving  his  would- 
be  guest  from  the  quandary  of  accepting  the 
invitation  without  loss  of  self-respect.  "  It's 
Christinas-eve  and  this  is  my  outfit ;  I'm  go 
ing  in  for  as  good  a  dinner  as  they  can  give 
us  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  I  say,  old  man, 
will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  order  it  ?  You 
know  fifty  times  better  than  I  what  wre  ought 
to  have  to  get  the  best." 

Frazer  Bell  grinned  melodiously.  One 
could  almost  see  his  mouth  water. 

"  I'll  do  it  if  you  like,"  he  said. 

"  I  wish  you  would.  And  be  sure  to  put 
down  the  finest  there  is,  and  to  pick  out 
something  gilt-edged  in  the  way  of  wine  ; 
something  cobwebby  and  precious." 

"  I'll  try,"  said  Frazer,  with  another  grin, 
and  he  ambled  off  in  the  direction  of  the  of 
fice. 


22          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

Tom  went  into  the  reading-room  and 
picked  up  a  magazine.  Presently  he  passed 
his  hands  across  his  eyes  again,  for  the 
wreaths  in  the  windows  of  the  house  in  Far- 
ragut  Place  were  grinning  at  him  still.  He 
said  to  himself  that  he  guessed  he  needed 
another  drink,  and  pressed  the  electric  but 
ton  at  his  side. 

"  Ask  Mr.  Frazer  Bell  what  he'll  have  and 
bring  me  a  Martini  cocktail,"  he  said  to  the 
servant.  Then  he  shut  his  eyes  and  the  grin 
ning  wreaths  changed  into  a  girl's  face,  a  face 
which  had  haunted  him  day  in  and  day  out 
for  seven  years.  He  knew  that  he  ought  to 
brush  that  away  also,  but  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  do  it  on  Christmas-eve.  He  would 
give  himself  that  little  luxury  at  least,  before 
he  tried  to  obliterate  it  by  talking  gastron 
omy  with  Frazer  Bell.  Nearly  seven  years, 
verily,  since  he  had  seen  her  first !  She  was 
then  a  girl  of  nineteen,  and  he  at  the  bottom 
of  the  real  estate  ladder  without  a  dollar  to 
his  name,  as  it  were.  He  had  been  crazy  to 
marry  her,  and  for  two  years  he  had  followed 
her  from  ball-room  to  ball-room  with  a  fever 
ish  assiduity  which  threatened  to  revolution^ 
ize  his  business  habits  and  make  light  of  his 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS        23 

business  principles.  He  was  not  the  only 
one  in  love  with  her  ;  there  were  half  a  dozen  ; 
but  the  one  whose  devotion  he  dreaded  most 
was  Charles  Leverett  Saunders,  a  handsome 
dashing  beau,  a  scion  of  a  rich  and  conspicu 
ous  house.  He  had  watched  her  behavior 
toward  his  rival  with  the  eye  of  a  lynx,  and 
as  he  compared  the  notes  of  one  evening  with 
the  notes  of  the  next  he  had  felt  that  she  was 
more  gracious  to  Saunders  than  to  him.  And 
yet  sometimes  she  was  so  sweet  and  kind  to 
him.  But  then,  again  she  would  be  cold  and 
distant,  almost  icy,  in  short ;  on  which  occa 
sions  he  had  felt  as  though  he  would  like  to 
cut  his  throat.  A  half-dozen  times  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  offer  himself  to  her  and 
know  his  fate,  but  somehow  his  determination, 
which  was  so  prodigious  in  other  affairs,  had 
failed  him.  So  matters  had  gone  for  a  year 
and  a  half,  and  he  had  seemed  no  nearer  and 
no  less  near  to  the  goal  than  ever.  He  had 
said  to  himself  severely  that  this  thing  must 
not  go  on. 

On  December  31st,  just  five  years  ago, 
there  was  to  be  a  famous  ball,  the  crack  party 
of  the  season.  He  had  resolved  that  before 
the  old  year  was  out  he  would  know  his  fate 


24         THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

once  and  for  all.  Ten-dollar  gold  pieces  did 
not  grow  for  him  then  on  every  bush,  but  he 
ordered  from  the  florist  the  handsomest  bou 
quet  of  roses  and  violets  which  native  horti 
cultural  talent  could  devise,  and  sent  it  to 
Miss  Isabelle  Hardy  on  the  eve  of  the  ball. 
She  had  promised  to  dance  the  German  with 
him,  and  when  he  entered  the  ball-room  his 
eyes  saw  no  one  until  they  rested  on  her.  A 
frown  had  creased  his  brow,  for  she  was  on 
the  arm  of  Charles  Leverett  Saunders,  and 
was  looking  up  into  his  face  with  a  smile  of 
happy  excitement  which  had  suggested  to 
Tom  that  he  was  as  far  from  her  thoughts  as 
the  Emperor  of  Japan.  What  was  more  and 
worse,  she  carried  three  gorgeous  bouquets, 
but  his  was  not  among  them.  Where  was  it  ? 
Had  it  not  been  sent  ?  If  so,  he  would  ruin 
that  florist's  trade  for  ever  and  ever.  Or  had 
she  left  it  at  home  on  purpose? 

He  fought  shy  of  her  until  the  German  and 
there  was  no  longer  an  excuse  for  him  to 
keep  away.  Almost  at  once  she  thanked  him 
for  his  lovely  flowers. 

"  But  you  have  not  brought  them." 
"  No,"  she  said,  sweetly.  "  I  was  unable  to — • 
I,"  and  she  had  paused  in  her  embarrassment. 


THE  BACHELOR'S   CHHI^TUAS         25 

"  There  were  so  many,  of  course." 
"  No,  it  was  not  that,  Mr.  AViggin,  I  assure 
you."     But  she  had  looked  a  little  hurt  at 
his  gruff  words.     "  I  had  a  very  good  reason 
for  not  bringing  them." 

There  had  been  a  piteous  look  in  the  girl's 
eyes  as  she  spoke,  which  he  had  often  re- 
culled  since ;  but  then  he  had  thought  of 
nothing  but  his  anger  and  the  slight  which 
had  been  put  upon  him.  He  felt  like  asking 
why  she  had  not  left  Charles  Leverett  Saun- 
ders's  flowers  at  home  instead  of  his.  It  was 
clear  that  she  did  not  care  for  him,  and  it  be 
came  clearer  and  clearer  in  the  course  of  the 
evening ;  for  after  a  while  they  had  sat  al 
most  tongue-tied  beside  each  other.  He  had 
tried  his  best  not  to  be  disagreeable,  but  in 
spite  of  himself  cynical  sentences  had  slipped 
from  between  his  teeth  in  close  succes 
sion.  He  had  seen  that  she  was  hurt  and  lie 
had  rather  gloried  in  it,  and  presently  an  em 
barrassed  silence  had  followed,  broken  by  the 
arrival  of  his  rival  with  a  magnificent  favor 
proffered  beamingly  to  the  girl  of  Tom's 
heart.  She  had  sailed  away,  and  looking 
back  over  her  shoulder,  given  Tom  one  glance 
— one  of  those  icy  glances  which  made  him 


2G          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

yearn  to  cut  his  throat.  That  was  bad  enough, 
but  to  crown  all,  when  her  turn  came  to  be 
stow  a  boutonniere  she  made  Tom  carry  her 
straight  up  to  Leverett  Sauuders,  in  the  but 
ton-hole  of  whose  coat  she  proceeded  to  fasten 
the  rosebud  for  which  Tom  would  have  given 
twelve  months  of  his  life. 

Five  years  ago  on  the  first  of  January  ! 
He  had  gone  home  that  night  certain  that 
Isabelle  Hardy  did  not  love  him,  and  re 
solved  that  she  should  play  fast  and  loose 
with  him  no  longer.  In  the  first  hours  of 
the  new  year  he  vowed  that  he  would  forget 
her,  and  devote  himself  to  his  business  heart 
and  soul.  Henceforth  he  would  close  eye 
and  brain  to  all  distractions.  He  would 
cease  forever  to  be  a  plaything  for  a  woman's 
caprice. 

He  had  kept  his  word.  That  is  to  say,  his 
attentions  had  ended  from  that  hour.  The 
festivities  which  had  known  him  knew  him 
no  more.  He  went  nowhere,  and  the  reason 
whispered  under  the  rose  was  that  Isabelle 
Hardy  had  given  him  the  mitten.  The  whis 
per  reached  him,  but  little  he  cared  that  ru 
mor  was  not  strictly  accurate.  Was  it  not 
practically  so  ?  She  had  to  all  intents  and 


THE  BACHELOR'S   CUHISTMA*         27 

purposes  thrown  him  over,  and  he  had 
expelled  her  image  from  his  heart  and  gone 
on  with  his  business,  looking  neither  to  the 
right  nor  to  the  left.  Occasionally  he  passed 
her  in  the  street,  and  on  every  Christmas-eve 
since  the  night  of  his  resolution,  he  had  left 
a  trifling  remembrance  at  the  house  in  Far- 
ragut  Place,  just,  as  it  were,  to  show  that 
there  was  no  ill  feeling.  Otherwise  they 
never  met,  and  here  he  was  to-day,  an  old 
bachelor  close  on  forty,  getting  bald  and 
set  in  his  ways,  with  a  splendid  business 
and  a  secret  ache  at  his  heart.  And  she  ? 
Tom  had  never  known  why  she  had  not 
married  Charles  Leverett  Saunders,  as  every 
body  expected  and  said  she  was  going  to 
do.  Yet  suddenly,  without  warning,  that 
dashing  gallant  had  gone  abroad  and  had 
remained  there  ever  since,  doing  the  Nile, 
and  Norway,  and  hunting  tigers  in  the 
jungles  of  India,  according  as  the  humor 
seized  him.  And  she  ?  She  was  beginning 
to  show  just  a  little  the  traces  of  time,  to 
suggest  what  she  would  look  like  if  she  never 
married  and  remained  after  all  an  old  maid. 
He  had  been  struck  by  it  the  last  time  he 
had  passed  her  in  the  street.  An  old  maid  ! 


THE  BACHELOR'S  ( 


Isabelle  Hardy  an  old  maid  !  There  was  bit 
ter  liumor  in  it  for  Tom,  and  lie  laughed 
aloud  in  the  reading-room,  then,  starting  at 
his  own  performance,  looked  around  him 
confusedly.  He  was  alone,  and  his  un  tasted 
drink  stood  at  his  elbow.  No  one  had  heard 
his  harsh,  strange  outburst.  He  tossed  off 
the  cocktail  and  sank  back  in  his  easy  chair 
to  confront  the  vision.  An  old  maid.  And 
he  was  an  old  bachelor.  And  it  was  Christ 
mas-eve.  And  what  a  gloomy,  diabolical  an 
niversary  it  was  for  old  maids  and  old  bach 
elors.  They  had  no  things-iu-law  to  invite 
them  to  dinner.  They  were  out  in  the  cold 
and  their  room  was  better  than  their  com 
pany.  Jokes?  Jollities?  They  were  all 
matrimonial  and  centred  about  baby's  teeth 
or  Noah's  arks.  The  only  thing  for  an  old 
bachelor  or  old  maid  to  do  was  to  ransack 
toy  shops  and  then  stand  aside.  Merry 
Christmas?  How  in  the  name  of  Santa 
Glaus  was  an  old  bachelor  or  an  old  maid  to 
have  a  merry  Christmas  ?  And  why  in  time 
shouldn't  they  be  merry  if  they  could  ? 

Five  minutes  later,  the  servant  had  to  an 
nounce  twice  that  dinner  was  served  before 
Tom  turned  his  head,  which  caused  that 


777 /•;  JiACJIKLOlt'ti   CV/A'YNY'J/.IN          I'D 

functionary  to  reflect  that  Mr.  Wiggin  was 
getting  a  little  deaf.  He  was  looking  straight 
before  him  into  the  fire,  as  though  he  were 
interested  in  the  processes  of  combustion  or 
the  price  of  coal.  He  turned  at  the  second 
summons  with  a  start. 

"What's  that,  Simon?  Mr.  Bell  waiting 
for  me?  Oh,  of  course;  dinner  is  read}'. 
Tell  him — tell  him,"  he  added  with  a  fever 
ish,  excited  manner  us  he  sprang  to  his  feet, 
"that  I'll  be  with  him  hi  a  moment.  I  must 
use  the  telephone  first.  I'll  put  it  through," 
he  added  to  himself  as  he  dashed  from  the 
room,  "  if  it  takes  a  leg." 

Whatever  Tom  was  bent  on  almost  cost 
him  a  bone  of  some  sort  at  the  start,  for  just 
beyond  the  door  of  the  reading-room  he 
bumped  full  into  George  Hapgood,  a  stout, 
dignified-looking  man  of  about  fifty.  When 
Tom  realized  who  it  was  his  eyes  gleamed 
joyously,  and  in  lieu  of  an  apology  he  blurted 
out : 

"  You're  just  the  man  I'm  looking  for,  Hap- 
good.  Will  you  do  me  the  favor  to  dine  with 
me  to-morrow  ?  Now  don't  say  you  can't,  for 
you  must." 

"  To-morrow  ?       To-morrow's   Christmas, 


80          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHEISTMAS 

isn't  it  ?  "  was  the  inquiry,  with  just  a  shade 
of  melancholy  in  the  tone. 

"  Yes.  And  we're  out  of  it — two  old  bach 
elors  like  you  and  me.  I'm  going  to  bring  a 
few  choice  spirits  together  to  prove  that  the 
things-in-law  can't  have  all  the  fun.  Say 
you'll  come.  Here,  at  seven." 

"  I — I  was  going  to  dine  with  my  brother, 
but  I  got  a  telegram  from  him  this  afternoon 
saying  that  the  children  had  broken  out  with 
scarlet  fever  and — 

"  I  understand,  old  man.  So  did  mine.  I 
mean — we're  all  in  the  same  boat.  Then  I 
shall  count  on  you  at  seven." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,  Wiggin.  I'll  be  glad 
to  come,"  answered  Hapgood,  with  a  grave, 
courteous  bow.  Tom  remembered  having 
heard  it  said  that  Hapgood  had  never  really 
smiled  since  his  lady-love,  Marian  Blake,  mar 
ried  Willis  Bolles,  twenty-five  years  before. 
He  was  a  brilliant  lawyer  and  an  influential 
man,  but  he  had  never  been  known  to  smile, 
and  he  habitually  fought  shy  of  all  entertain 
ments  where  the  other  sex  was  to  be  encoun 
tered,  as  though  he  feared  contagion. 

"  I  thought  I  wouldn't  tell  him  that  there 
might  be  women.  It  11  do  him  good  to  meet 


THE  BACHELORS   CHRISTMAS         31 

a  few,"  chuckled  Tom,  as  he  pursued  his  way 
to  the  telephone  box. 

"Is  that  Albion  Hall?" 

"Yes,  seh." 

"Is  Mr.  Maxwell  there?" 

"  No,  seh,  Mr.  Maxwell  has  gone  home." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  The  janitor,  seh." 

"Is  the  hail  engaged  for  to-morrow 
night  ?  " 

"  Can't  say,  seh.  Haven't  any  orders.  You 
mean  Christmas  night,  seh?  " 

"  Yes,  to-morrow,  Christmas." 

"  Likely  not,  seh." 

"  Where  does  Mr.  Maxwell  live  ?  " 

«  Plainville,  seh." 

"  Humph  !  Do  you  wish  to  make  a  ten- 
dollar  bill,  janitor  ?  Very  well.  Take  a  car 
riage  and  drive  out  to  Plainville  as  tight  as 
you  can  fetch  it,  and  find  out  if  Mr.  Thomas 
Wiggin — he  knows  me — can  have  the  hall  to 
morrow  night.  Tell  Mr.  Maxwell  that  if  he'll 
meet  me  at  my  rooms  at  eight  o'clock  to 
morrow,  Christmas  morning,  I'll  add  twenty- 
five  per  cent,  to  the  price.  Do  you  under 
stand  ?  Now  repeat  what  I've  said  to  you. 
That's  right.  Go  along  now  and  report  to  me 


32          THE  BACHELOR'S   CHRISTMAS 

at  the  Blackstone  Club  as  soon  as  you  get 
back,  and  for  every  five  minutes  which  you 
take  from  an  hour  and  a  half  I'll  add  an  extra 
dollar  to  the  ten." 

Tom  looked  at  his  watch  reflectively.  It 
was  a  quarter  past  seven.  He  must  dine  first, 
if  only  not  to  break  faith  with  Frazer  Bell, 
whom  he  had  kept  waiting  abominably  long 
already.  He  stopped  an  instant,  however,  at 
the  office  on  his  way  to  join  Frazer,  so  as  to 
make  sure  that  he  could  have  the  large  green 
dining-room  for  the  following  evening. 

"  To-morrow's  Christmas,  you  know,  Mr. 
Wiggiii  ?  "  suggested  the  steward,  respect 
fully. 

"  I  know  it,  Dunklee.  Is  there  any  reason 
why  I  shouldn't  give  a  dinner  party  on  Christ 
mas  day  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  of  course  not.  I  merely  thought 
that  perhaps  you  were  going  to  dine  else 
where  and  had  forgotten  it  was  Christmas 
day." 

"  I  dine  here,  and — I  wish  a  dinner  for,  say 
sixteen — I  can't  tell  the  precise  number  yet — 
a  ladies'  dinner.  And  I  wish  it  to  be  as  hand 
some  as  possible.  You  mustn't  fail  me,"  he 
added,  noticing  that  the  steward  looked  rather 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         33 

dismayed.  "  Start  your  messengers  at  once 
and  spare  no  expense,  if  you  have  to  drag  the 
butchers  from  their  beds  to  get  what  you 
need.  I'll  see  to  the  flowers  myself ;  I  havo 
a  greenhouse  in  my  mind's  eye  which  I  intend 
to  buy  solidly  for  the  occasion." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Wiggiu,  I'll  do  my  best, 
though  it's  late  to  begin,  sir." 

Frazer  Bell  was  sitting  before  his  raw  oys 
ters  the  picture  of  polite  despair,  seeing  in 
his  mind's  eye  the  delicate  dinner  which  ho 
had  ordered  being  done  to  death  and  gettiug 
lukewarm. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  owe  you  a  thousand 
pardons,  but  I  had  to  telephone.  If  our  din 
ner  is  spoiled,  or  whether  it  is  or  not,  I  want 
you  to  promise  to  dine  with  me  to-morrow 
night.  I  have  evolved  a  scheme  while  we 
were  waiting,  which  I  will  unfold  to  you  pres 
ently.  Go  on  with  your  oysters.  I  hope  you 
will  forgive  me." 

"To-morrow,  Christmas?" 

"  Yes.  I  propose  to  give  an  entertainment 
to  all  the  old  bachelors  and  maiden  ladies  of 
my  acquaintance,  if  they'll  come.  A  dinner 
here  followed  by  a  dance  at  Albion  Hall,  and 
Dunklee  is  arranging  i'or  the  dinner.  I'm 
3 


34          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

going  to  invite  all  the  old  timers,  and  I  need 
your  advice  as  to  the  list.  For  a  starter  I'll 
put  down  the  three  Bellknap  girls." 

Tom  whipped  out  his  pencil  and  proceeded 
to  utilize  the  back  of  the  bill  of  fare  which 
Frazer  had  had  drawn  up  to  gloat  over. 

"  See  first  what  you're  going  to  eat,  old 
man." 

"  It's  sure  to  be  admirable  if  you  ordered 
it.  It  has  always  been  a  matter  of  wonder  to 
me  that  neither  of  those  Bellknap  girls  have 
married.  Then  there's  Georgiana  Dixon,  in 
the  same  block.  Glad  I  remembered  her. 
Charming  girl  too.  She  ought  to  have  been 
married  years  ago.  Come  to  think  of  it,  you 
used  to  be  a  friend  of  hers,  Frazer." 

"  Yes,  I  did.  What  on  earth  are  you  up  to, 
Tom  ?  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  " 

"Never  more  so  in  my  life.  I  tell  you 
there's  a  tacit  conspiracy  in  this  town — I  dare 
say  it's  all  over  the  planet — against  us  poor 
wretches  who  are  old  enough  to  be  married 
and  haven't,  and  they — the  married  ones  I 
mean — like  to  keep  us  out  in  the  cold,  as  a 
sort  of  punishment,  may  be,  because  we've 
chosen  to  remain  single.  I'm  sick  of  it  for 
one,  and  I'm  going  to  organize  a  revolution. 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         35 

I'm  going  to  have  a  grand  family  meeting  of 
all  the  poor  lonely  spirits  like  you  and  me  and 
the  Bellknap  girls  and  Georgiana  Dixon  and 
George  Hapgood,  and — and  the  things-in-law 
may  go  to  the  devil.  Now  put  your  wits  on 
this  thing,  Frazer,  while  you  disintegrate  your 
terrapin.  Come,  girls  first." 

"  Do  you  suppose  they'll  ever  come  ?  "  asked 
Frazer,  with  an  amazed  grin.  He  was  essen 
tially  a  conventional  man  without  a  spark  of 
imagination,  and  he  could  scarcely  believe 
that  Tom  was  really  in  earnest. 

"They've  got  to  come.  Why  shouldn't 
they  come  ?  " 

"  They'll  think  it  queer." 

"  It  isn't  queer.     It's  righteous." 

"  All  right.  Put  down  Miss  Mamie  Scott. 
She  will  never  see  thirty  again." 

"  Capital.    Poor  soul !    A  girl  to  make  any 
man  happy." 
.    "  There's  Susan  Davis." 

"To  be  sure.  She  isn't  pretty,  but  she's 
good.  Joe  Elliott  used  to  be  partial  to  her 
before  he  ran  a  rig  with  that  smug-faced  doll 
who  jilted  him.  What  a  fool  he  was  !  We'll 
ask  him  too." 

To   tell  the  truth,   even   the   gastronomic 


36          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

Frazer  Bell,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  din 
ner  was  very  far  from  spoiled,  presently  for 
got  what  he  was  eating  and  drinking  in  the 
absorbing  process  of  selection.  By  the  time 
the  cheese  and  a  rare  glass  of  Burgundy  ar 
rived  the  list  was  finished,  and  Tom  was  eager 
to  escape  to  the  reading-room  to  prepare  the 
notes  of  invitation,  which  must  be  sent  at 
once.  There  were  forty-six  in  all  to  be  in 
vited,  out  of  which  he  hoped  to  secure  enough 
for  a  full-fledged  dinner  party.  Those  who 
could  not  come  to  dinner  were  to  be  urged  to 
join  them  at  Albion  Hall  later. 

The  matter  of  wording  the  invitation  was  a 
serious  one,  and  Tom  sat  feeling  of  the  bald 
spot  on  his  crown  for  several  minutes.  At 
last,  with  a  desperate  air  he  plunged  his  pen 
into  the  inkstand  and  wrote  as  follows  to 
Miss  Madeline  Bellknap  : 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  BELLKNAP  :  I  beg  as  a  favor 
that  you  and  both  your  sisters  will  honor  me 
with  your  company  at  dinner  to-morrow,  De 
cember  25th,  at  the  Blackstone  Club,  at  seven 
o'clock.  I  am  bringing  together,  in  celebra 
tion  of  a  bachelor's  Christmas,  a  number  of 
kindred  spirits  who  have  no  things-in-law  to 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         37 

cater  to  their  sympathetic  needs,  and  yet  who 
have  a  no  less  equal  right  to  a  merry  Christ 
mas.  After  dinner  we  shall  adjourn  to  Al 
bion  Hall  to  dance,  to  which  I  trust  that  you 
or  some  of  you,  if  unable  to  dine  with  me, 
will  come  at  ten  o'clock.  With  the  compli 
ments  of  the  season  and  the  sincere  hope  that 
you  will  oblige  me,  I  am, 

"  Very  sincerely  yours, 

"  THOMAS  WIGGIN." 

"  How  is  that,  Frazer  ?  " 

"  I  guess  it's  all  right,"  said  Frazer,  in  a 
tone  which  suggested  that  he  was  far  from 
sure  whether  it  was  not  all  wrong. 

"  Perfectly  respectful  and  to  the  point,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Yes.  Hold  on,  Tom.  How  about  a  chap 
eron  ?  They  won't  come  without  a  chaperon." 

Tom  bit  his  lip.  "  I  won't  have  a  chaperon. 
I'll  be  -  -  if  I  will  have  a  chaperon."  He 
puckered  his  brow  gloomily;  then,  with  a 
sudden  wave  of  his  hand,  he  cried, 

"  I  have  it." 

Thereupon  he  dashed  off  this  postscript : 

"  P.S.  We  are  all  old  enough  to  take  care 
of  ourselves." 


38          THE  BACHELOR'S   CHRISTMAS 

For  the  next  two  hours  Tom  and  Frazer 
devoted  themselves  with  feverish  industry  to 
the  task  of  writing  the  two-score  invitations. 
In  such  an  emergency  forgery  seemed  allow 
able,  and,  without  attempting  to  imitate  the 
Wiggin  chirography,  Frazer  boldly  signed  the 
name  of  Thomas.  As  soon  as  every  half- 
dozen  notes  were  finished  they  were  hurried 
to  their  destination  by  special  messengers. 
The  clock  struck  half-past  ten  when  the  last 
was  done.  Tom  handed  over  to  the  boy  in 
attendance  the  final  batch,  all  save  a  single 
one.  While  he  was  writing  this  he  could  have 
written  half  a  dozen  of  the  others,  and  now 
that  it  was  written  and  addressed  he  drew  it 
from  the  envelope  to  read  once  more  the  words 
which  he  had  penned  so  carefully.  Their 
tenor  was  essentially  the  same,  but  he  had 
stricken  out  a  phrase  or  two  here,  and  added 
a  phrase  or  two  there,  to  make  sure  that  she 
would  understand  the  nature  of  the  invitation. 
Then  he  arose  with  it  in  his  hand  and  said, 
"  Good-night,  Frazer.  A  thousand  thanks. 
I'll  leave  this  one  myself.  Wish  you  merry 
Christmas." 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         39 


III 

AT  half  past  six  on  the  evening  of  Christ 
mas  day  Tom  Wiggin  stood  in  the  large  green 
dining-room  of  the  Blackstone  Club,  survey 
ing  a  magnificently  appointed  table.  Hoses, 
pansies,  and  violets  from  the  greenhouse 
which  he  had  bought  out  at  ten  o'clock  that 
morning,  lay  tastefully  banked  and  scattered 
upon  the  cloth,  intertwined  with  masses  of 
evergreen  and  holly  gay  with  berries.  Christ 
mas  wreaths  and  festoons  were  lavishly  ar 
ranged  around  the  walls.  Dunklee  had  as 
sured  him  that  there  should  be  no  dearth  of 
palatable  viands,  and,  most  important  fact  of 
all,  there  had  been  twenty  acceptances  for 
dinner,  happily  just  ten  men  and  ten  women, 
and  nearly  a  dozen  more  acceptances  for  the 
dance.  He  had  been  in  a  mad  whirl  since 
daybreak,  but  he  believed  now  that  he  had 
accomplished  everything  except  to  arrange 
the  seats  at  table,  which  needed  a  little  quiet 
reflection. 

The  answers  had  begun  to  arrive  shortly 
after  breakfast.  The  first  had  been  a  refusal, 
a  little  curt  and  stiff  in  tone,  as  though  the 


40          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

lady  in  question,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
she  had  promised  to  dine  with  one  of  her 
family,  wished  to  give  him  to  understand  that 
she  took  herself  too  seriously  to  accept  such 
an  invitation  under  any  circumstances.  Tom's 
heart  sank  within  him,  and  he  said  to  himself 
that  he  had  made  a  mess  of  it.  Five  minutes 
later  his  features  were  as  complacent  as  those 
of  a  Cheshire  cat.  The  Misses  Bellknap  were 
coming,  all  three  of  them.  They  had  ordered 
dinner  at  home,  but  were  coming  notwith 
standing,  to  help  Mr.  Wiggin  pass  a  merry 
Christmas  and  confound  the  things-in-law. 

"  They  are  three  noble  sports,"  Tom  had 
said  to  himself,  as  he  danced  around  his 
apartment  waving  the  mildly  scented  note. 

Other  answers  came  thick  and  fast.  Of 
course  many  had  engagements,  but  most  of 
these  expressed  deep  regret  at  their  inability 
to  attend,  and  several  who  could  not  come  to 
dinner  promised  to  put  in  an  appearance  at 
the  dance.  There  were  a  few  other  chilling 
refusals.  Miss  Susan  Davis,  whom  Tom  had 
characterized  as  not  pretty  but  good,  let  him 
perceive  very  plainly  that  she  considered  the 
invitation  indelicate.  On  the  other  hand,  Miss 
Mamie  Scott,  who  would  never  see  thirty 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         41 

again,  had  written  him  spiritedly  that  it  was 
a  comfort  to  know  that  she  was  old  enough  to 
take  care  of  herself,  and  that  she  was  coming 
without  her  mother  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life. 

And  she  ?  Tom  had  not  heard  until  nearly 
noon,  and  he  had  realized,  as  he  held  the  little 
neatly  sealed  note  in  his  hand,  that  if  she  were 
going  to  fail  him  his  pleasure  in  the  whole 
business  would  be  utterly  gone.  His  wrist 
shook  as  though  he  had  the  palsy,  and  he 
hated  to  look.  She  was  coming;  yes,  she 
was  coming.  Her  father  and  mother  were 
going  to  dine  with  her  brother-in-law,  and 
though  she  had  promised  to  do  the  same  she 
thought  she  would  enjoy  better  the  very  origi 
nal  dinner  to  which  he  had  invited  her. 
"And,  as  you  say,"  she  wrote  in  conclusion, 
"  we  are  certainly  old  enough  to  take  care  of 
ourselves."  She  was  coining ;  yes,  she  was 
coming,  and  whatever  happened  now,  he  was 
going  to  have  a  merry  Christmas. 

And  how  was  he  to  seat  them?  It  was 
rather  a  nice  problem.  To  begin  with,  Tom 
sandwiched  in  George  Hapgood  between  the 
eldest  Miss  Bellknap  and  Miss  Mamie  Scott, 
which  was  as  delightful  a  situation  as  any 


42          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

man  could  wish  to  have.  Frazer  Bell  must 
go  beside  Georgiana  Dixon,  and  Harry  Aber- 
crombie,  who  had  been  dangling  for  years  in 
the  train  of  Angelina  Phillips  until  everybody 
was  tired,  should  take  her  in  and  have  the 
second  Miss  Bellknap  on  his  other  side.  Tom 
was  making  pretty  good  progress,  but  what 
really  troubled  him  was  whether  it  would  do 
for  him  to  place  Isabelle  Hardy  next  to  him 
self.  Would  not  such  a  proceeding  be  quite 
inconsistent  with  the  vow  which  he  had  been 
living  up  to  for  the  past  five  years  ?  What 
sense  would  there  be  in  putting  himself  in 
the  way  of  temptation,  when  he  knew  per 
fectly  well  that  she  did  not  care  a  button  for 
him  ?  What  use,  indeed  ?  And  yet,  as  he 
said  to  himself,  Christmas  comes  but  once  a 
year,  and  this  was  his  party,  and — and  had 
not  she  herself  stated  that  they  certainly  were 
old  enough  now  to  take  care  of  themselves  ? 
Why  shouldn't  he  sit  next  to  her  ?  He  was 
no  longer  the  sentimental,  hot-headed  boy  of 
five  years  ago.  They  would  enjoy  themselves 
like  any  other  sober  bachelor  and  old  maid. 
It  would  only  be  for  one  evening,  and  begin 
ning  with  to-morrow  he  would  stick  to  his 
vow  as  sturdily  as  ever.  Yes,  he  would  take 


THE  BACHELOR'S   CHRISTMAS         43 

in  the  eldest  Miss  Bellknap,  who  would  be  the 
oldest  woman  present,  and  he  would  put  Isa- 
belle  Hardy  on  his  left. 

When  he  had  made  this  important  decision 
Tom  found  the  arrangement  of  his  other  guests 
a  simple  matter,  and  after  one  final  scrutiniz 
ing,  but  tolerably  contented,  glance  around 
the  table,  he  walked  into  the  ladies'  drawing- 
room  to  await  the  arrival  of  his  company. 

Punctually  on  the  stroke  of  seven,  the  three 
Misses  Bellknap  swept  into  the  room  in  a 
merry  flutter.  They  were  tall  bean-poles  of 
girls,  who  had  naturally  a  prancing  style,  and 
they  were  in  their  very  best  bib  and  tucker, 
which  included  great  puffed  sleeves  and  nod 
ding  plumes  in  their  hair.  In  one  breath 
they  told  Tom  that  they  considered  it  a  grand 
idea,  that  they  had  been  practically  nowhere 
for  years,  and  that  it  was  a  real  pleasure  to  be 
thought  of  and  taken  down  from  the  shelf,  if 
only  for  a  single  evening.  It  was  evident  that 
they  had  come  determined  to  have  at  least  a 
good  time,  if  not  a  riot,  for  when  their  eyes 
rested  on  George  Hapgood  standing  in  the 
door- way  the  picture  of  blank  amazement,  all 
three  giggled  convulsively  as  though  they 
were  eighteen. 


44          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

"  Come  in,  George,  don't  be  afraid,"  said 
Tom.  "  They  won't  bite." 

"  We  really  won't  hurt  you,  Mr.  Hapgood," 
said  Miss  Madeline,  the  eldest ;  "  do  come 
in." 

It  was  too  late  for  the  woman-hater  to 
draw  back  now,  so,  like  the  man  he  was,  he 
braced  his  muscles  and  faced  the  music. 
He  bowed  with  grave  courtesy  to  the  young 
est  Miss  Bellknap  ;  he  bowed  with  a  faint 
smile — just  a  ghostly  glimmer,  but,  neverthe 
less,  a  smile — to  Miss  Arabella,  the  second 
Miss  Bellknap ;  and  when  he  faced  the  eld 
est  Miss  Bellknap,  who  happening  to  be  the 
furthest  away  from  him  was  the  last  to  be 
reached,  his  features  broke  down  completely, 
and  he  positively  laughed — laughed  for  the 
first  time  in  twenty  years. 

"Do  shake  hands,  Mr.  Hapgood,"  said 
Miss  Madeline  ;  "this  is  like  old  times." 

And  now  everybody  began  to  arrive  in  a 
bunch  in  the  midst  of  a  general  handshaking 
and  chorus  of  merriment.  The  arrival  of 
each  old  stager,  masculine  or  feminine,  was 
greeted  with  fresh  exclamations  of  delight, 
and  a  spirit  of  contagious  frivolity  was  ram 
pant  from  the  very  start. 


THE  BACHELORS  CHRISTMAS         45 

Tom  was  already  bubbling  over  with  en 
joyment,  but  his  eyes  were  glued  on  the 
doorway.  There  she  was  at  last,  looking — 
yes,  looking  younger  and  prettier  than  he 
had  ever  seen  her  in  his  life,  and  dressed  be- 
witchingly.  An  old  maid  !  It  was  impossi 
ble.  It  was  monstrous. 

"  It  was  very  good  of  you  to  come,  Miss 
Hardy." 

"  I  am  very  much  pleased  to  be  here,  Mr. 
Wiggin." 

Most  conventional  phraseology,  and  there 
was  really  no  reason  why  Tom  should  keep 
repeating  the  words  over  to  himself  in  a 
dazed  sort  of  fashion  until  he  was  called  to 
account  by  the  opening  of  the  doors. 

"Dinner  is  served,  sir." 

Then  readjusting  his  faculties,  Tom  gave 
his  arm  to  Miss  Madeline  Bellknap,  every 
Jack  did  the  same  to  his  appointed  Jill,  and 
the  company  filed  gayly  into  the  dining- 
room. 

Beginning  with  the  oysters,  there  was 
almost  a  pandemonium  of  conversation,  and 
tongues  wagged  fast  and  eagerly.  There 
were  to  be  no  speeches— Tom  had  deter 
mined  on  that — or  rather  only  a  single  one, 


46          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

and  this  was  an  after-thought.  When  the 
champagne  was  passed,  and  all  the  glasses 
were  filled,  Tom  rose  in  his  seat.  Everyone 
stopped  talking,  and  there  was  an  expectant 
hush. 

"  I  wish  to  offer  a  toast,"  he  said,  "  a  toast 
for  the  old  bachelors  to  drink.  Wish  you 
merry  Christmas  and — and  here's  to  her  !  " 

There  was  a  brief  pause,  and  then  George 
Hapgood,  and  in  his  wake  the  whole  table, 
rose  like  one  man  and  emptied  their  brim 
ming  glasses. 

"  Here's  to  her  !  " 

Tom  did  not  look  to  right  nor  to  left,  not 
even  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  as  he 
drained  to  the  last  drop  the  sparkling  wine. 
He  would  keep  to  his  vow  and  drink  to  -her 
in  secret.  Some  of  the  ladies  giggled 
slightly,  and  all  looked  at  their  plates.  It 
was  just  a  little  awkward,  even  for  the  most 
unattached,  until  Miss  Madeline  Bellknap 
rose,  glass  in  hand,  and  said  valiantly,  with 
a  wave  of  her  napkin  : 

"  My  dears,  I  give  you  a  toast  for  you  to 
drink.  Wish  you  merry  Christmas.  We  are 
old  enough  to  take  care  of  ourselves  ;  and — 
and  here's  to  him  !  " 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         47 

Then  there  was  babel.  The  women  stood 
up  to  a  woman,  and  the  toast  was  consum 
mated. 

Miss  Hardy  laughed  gayly  with  the  rest. 
Presently  she  turned  to  Tom  and  said,  as  if 
it  had  suddenly  occurred  to  her,  though  they 
had  been  sitting  side  by  side  talking  com 
monplaces  ever  since  dinner  began : 

"  I  have  not  really  seen  you  for  years,  Mr. 
Wiggin." 

"  I  have  been  busy — very  busy,"  said  Tom, 
in  a  tone  which,  though  he  did  not  intend  it 
to  be  so,  was  almost  brusque. 

"  So  I  have  heard.  I  understand  you  have 
been  very  successful  in  your  business." 

"  I  have  stuck  to  it,  that's  all." 

"I  really  don't  think  we  have  met  so  as  to 
talk  together  since  Mrs.  Carter's  ball,  and 
that  was — let  me  see — five  years  ago  this 
coming  New  Year's  eve.  I  remember  we 
danced  the  German  together,  and — you  sent 
me  some  flowers  which  I  didn't  carry.  Per 
haps  you  have  forgotten  all  about  it,  for  five 
years  is  a  long  time  and  you  have  been  so 
busy;  but  I  should  like  to  explain  to  you 
about  those  flowers — why  I  didn't  carry  them. 
We  are  both  old  enough  now  to  take  care  of 


48          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

ourselves,  so  there  can't  be  any  objection  to 
rny  telling  you,  and — and  you  won't  be  of 
fended  at  this  late  day,  I'm  sure.  I  had  sev 
eral  bouquets  that  night,  and  Fannie  Perkins, 
who  was  staying  with  me,  had  none.  Fan 
nie  was  shy  and  sensitive,  and  it  occurred  to 
me  to  ofter  one  of  mine  to  her.  She  wouldn't 
think  of  it  at  first,  but  mother  urged  her  so 
strongly  that  she  gave  in  at  last.  l  Which 
shall  I  take,  Isabelle  ?  '  she  asked.  I  thought 
a  moment  and  then  said,  '  Take  your  pick, 
Fannie.'  And  she  chose  yours.  And  that  is 
why  I  didn't  carry  it  to  the  party.  But  I 
think  you  have  forgotten  all  about  it,  Mr. 
Wiggin." 

Tom  looked  as  though  he  had.  His  chin 
rested  on  his  collar,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
staring  at  the  table-cloth. 

"  I  remember  it  as  if  it  were  yesterday," 
he  said,  sadly.  "  I  was  a  fool." 

Miss  Hardy  colored.  "  We  were  both 
young,"  she  answered,  "  but  now  that  we  are 
older  and  wiser,  I  don't  mind  admitting  on 
my  side  that  it  was  stupid  of  me,  to  begin 
with,  to  give  one  of  my  bouquets  to  any 
body,  and  stupid  when  I  saw  that  you  were 
put  out  not  to  tell  you  the  truth.  But  wis- 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS         49 

dom  is  the  reward  of  years,  isn't  it?  "  She 
talked  easily,  almost  gayly.  Tom  suddenly 
realized  that  he  had  made  a  piece  of  bread 
which  he  had  been  clutching  into  a  sodden 

ball. 

"I'd  like  to  ask  you  a  single  question." 
He  was  trying  to  talk  easily  too.  "  Why  did 
you  let  Miss  Perkins  have  her  pick?  Did 
you  value  them  all  equally  ?  " 

"  It  was  because  I  did  not  value  them  all 
equally  that  I  told  her  to  choose.  I  did  not 
wish  her  to  think  that  I  cared  for  one  more 
than  the  others." 

"  And  whose  was  that  ?  " 
"  Five  years  is  a  long  time,  Mr.  Wiggin. 
You  said  a  single  question,  and  this  is  two. 
Alas  !  It  is  the  only  point  in  the  story  which 
I  have  quite  forgotten." 

"  Then  why  did  you  tell  me  ?  " 
"  Because  I  hoped  that  we  might  befriends 
again.     When  people  get  to  be  as  old  as  you 
and  I  we  value  our  old  friends.     There  are 
none  exactly  like  them." 
"  And  that  is  all?" 

"What  more  is  there,  Mr.  Wiggin?     Ex 
cept  to  thank  you  for  your  lovely  book,  and 
to  wish  you  a  merry  Christmas." 
4 


60          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

"  The  carriages  are  waiting,"  said  a  ser 
vant  in  Tom's  ear. 

The  dinner  was  over  and  it  was  time  to 
set  out  for  Albion  Hall.  The  ladies  filed 
into  the  drawing-room,  in  order,  as  Miss 
Madeline  phrased  it,  to  give  the  old  bache 
lors  a  chance  for  a  short  cigar.  When  that 
was  over  Tom  bundled  his  company  into 
carriages,  and  away  they  all  went  in  the  gay 
est  of  spirits. 

Whatever  belonging  to  the  greenhouse  had 
not  been  spread  over  the  dinner-table  adorn 
ed  the  walls  of  the  dancing-room,  and  pres 
ently  as  joyous  and  hilarious  a  company 
as  anyone  would  wish  to  see  was  tripping  to 
the  rhythm  of  the  waltz  over  a  perfect  floor. 
There  was  just  the  right  number  for  delight 
ful  dancing,  no  young  inexperienced  couples 
to  bump  into  everybody,  no  things-in-law  to 
stand  in  the  way  and  look  stupid ;  no  one  but 
genuine  old  stagers  taken  down  from  the 
shelf  for  one  last  glorious  frolic.  You  should 
have  seen  George  Hapgood  spinning  round 
with  Miss  Madeline!  How  Frazer  Bell 
grinned  as  he  whirled  Miss  Mamie  Scott  from 
one  corner  of  the  hall  to  the  other !  And 
Tom  ?  Where  was  Tom  ? 


QUITE   CONTRARY   TO   THE    SPIRIT   OF   THE   OCCASION, 
HE   WAS   DOWN   ON   HIS   KNEES 


THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS          51 

As  some  of  you  who  have  danced  at  Albion 
Hall  may  remember,  there  is  a  very  small 
bower-like  ante-room,  or  off-shoot,  or  what 
ever  you  choose  to  call  it,  a  sort  of  adjunct  to 
the  supper-room,  fit  for  just  one  couple  to 
withdraw  to.  On  this  Christmas  evening  it 
was  a  veritable  hiding-place,  for  the  entrance 
to  it  was  screened  by  two  noble  evergreens 
which  stood  as  sentinels  to  demand  a  pass 
word.  If  the  gay  company  suspected  that 
Tom  Wiggin  was  there,  no  one  was  rash 
enough  to  peep  within  and  ascertain.  Tom 
"Wiggin  ivas  there,  and  quite  contrary  to  the 
spirit  of  the  occasion,  he  was  down  on  his 
knees  unbosoming  the  love  which  he  had 
been  smothering  for  five  years  to  the  girl  of 
his  heart.  Only  think  of  it !  And  he,  a 
bald-headed  old  bachelor,  and  she  an  old 
maid  old  enough  to  take  care  of  herself. 
There  she  sat  with  her  hands  before  her  and 
a  smile  on  her  face,  letting  him  go  on.  And 
then,  strangest  part  of  all,  when  he  had  fin 
ished  and  told  how  miserable  he  had  been 
while  he  was  so  very  busy  and  absorbed  in 
his  business,  she  suddenly  remembered 
whose  bouquet  it  was  she  had  valued  most 
five  years  before,  although  she  had  declared 


52          THE  BACHELOR 'S  CHRISTMAS 

an  hour  earlier  that  she  had  totally  forgotten. 
And  then — but  the  rest  is  a  secret,  known 
only  to  the  sentinel  evergreens  and  them 
selves.  That  is,  the  rest  save  one  thing.  It 
was  after  they  had  agreed  to  live  as  bachelor 
and  maid  no  longer,  and  Tom  was  sitting 
looking  at  Isabelle  as  if  he  had  had  no  din 
ner,  he  remarked,  with  a  sudden  outburst,  as 
though  he  were  angry  with  destiny  and  a 
much  outraged  being : 

"  Why  on  earth  did  I  not  find  out  five 
years  ago  that  you  loved  me?  " 

"Because,"  said  the  pretty  spinster  in 
question,  "  you  never  asked  me,  Tom,  dear." 

Tom  Wiggin  looked  a  trifle  sheepish  in 
spite  of  his  joy.  "I  never  thought  of  that," 
he  said.  "I  am  afraid  I  never  did." 


AN   EYE   FOR  AN   EYE 


52          THE  BACHELOR'S  CHRISTMAS 

an  hour  earlier  that  she  had  totally  forgotten. 
And  then — but  the  rest  is  a  secret,  known 
only  to  the  sentinel  evergreens  and  them 
selves.  That  is,  the  rest  save  one  thing.  It 
was  after  they  had  agreed  to  live  as  bachelor 
and  maid  no  longer,  and  Tom  was  sitting 
looking  at  Isabelle  as  if  he  had  had  no  din 
ner,  he  remarked,  with  a  sudden  outburst,  as 
though  he  were  angry  with  destiny  and  a 
much  outraged  being : 

"Why  on  earth  did  I  not  find  out  five 
years  ago  that  you  loved  me?  " 

"Because,"  said  the  pretty  spinster  in 
question,  "  you  never  asked  me,  Tom,  dear." 

Tom  Wiggin  looked  a  trifle  sheepish  in 
spite  of  his  joy.  "I  never  thought  of  that," 
he  said.  "I  am  afraid  I  never  did." 


AN   EYE   FOR  AN   EYE 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 


ONE  af teraoou  not  many  years  ago,  Henry 
Alleyn  received  word  from  the  hospi 
tal  of  the  Sisterhood  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul 
that  Margaret  Hogan,  an  old  woman  who  had 
nursed  him  as  a  baby,  was  very  sick  and  de 
sired  him  to  draw  her  will  before  she  died. 
Accordingly  he  hastened  there,  taking  with 
him  a  young  man  who  was  studying  law  in  his 
office.  It  surprised  Alley u  that  Margaret  had 
been  carried  to  the  hospital,  for  he  had  seen 
her  within  a  week  at  her  own  house  where  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  paying  her  occasional  vis 
its  to  relieve  her  solitude.  She  had  men 
tioned  feeling  slightly  ill,  but,  as  Alleyn  had 
heard  nothing  from  her  since,  he  had  assumed 
that  she  must  be  convalescent.  He  reflected 
that  she  would  scarcely  have  consented  to  be 
removed  to  the  Sisterhood  unless  she  had 
been  seriously  sick,  and  he  felt  annoyed  that 


5G  AX  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

she  had  not  notified  him  of  her  condition,  es 
pecially  as  he  well  knew  that  her  failure  to 
do  so  proceeded  from  an  absurd  reluctance  to 
trouble  him,  as  she  called  it. 

Alleyn  was  a  rising  lawyer  of  about  five 
and  thirty,  whose  conduct  of  causes  had  be 
gun  to  attract  attention,  which  was  all  the 
more  flattering  for  the  reason  that  he  had 
come  to  town  but  ten  years  before  an  un 
known  youth,  without  powerful  friends  to 
help  him  on.  It  was  true  of  him,  however, 
that  he  was  a  college  graduate,  and  the  pos 
sessor  of  an  intelligent  face  and  refined  man 
ners  which  had  soon  obtained  him  admission 
into  society.  To  crown  his  success,  he  had 
within  six  months  become  engaged  to  a 
charming  woman.  His  future  looked  bright. 
He  was  recognized  at  the  Bar  as  a  man 
wholly  to  be  trusted. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  poor  Margaret  must  bo 
on  her  last  legs,"  he  soliloquized  as  they  pro 
ceeded.  "  I'm  going,"  he  explained  to  the 
student,  "  to  see  an  old  woman  who  took 
care  of  me  as  a  child — a  faithful,  devoted  soul 
as  ever  lived.  She  wants  me  to  make  her 
wall.  I  don't  suppose  she  has  much  to  leave  ; 
though,  come  to  think  of  it,  I  believe  she 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  57 

owns  the  little  house  she  lives  in  free  of  in- 
cumbrances.  They  have  sent  me  word  from 
the  hospital  to  come  at  once,  so  she  must  be 
pretty  sick,  I  fear." 

"  People  of  that  class  are  apt  to  imagine 
themselves  at  the  point  of  death  from  very 
slight  cause,  are  they  not  ?  "  inquired  John 
Larkin,  who,  out  of  respect  to  his  senior, 
gave  an  interrogative  form  to  this  cynicism. 

"  Yes,  but  Margaret  is  well  advanced  now, 
and  I  have  noticed  for  the  last  six  months 
that  she  seemed  feeble.  I  am  apprehensive 
in  her  case.  It  was  a  curious  chance," 
Alleyn  continued,  "that  let  me  know  her 
whereabouts,  some  time  ago,  shortly  after  I 
moved  here.  We  had  lost  track  of  her  for 
years,  as  she  left  my  mother's  service  while 
I  was  still  a  child.  It  appears  she  drifted 
from  place  to  place  and  finally  came  to  this 
city  to  live  with  a  sister.  The  sister  died 
before  very  long,  and  about  the  same  time 
Margaret  chanced  to  run  across  my  name  in 
the  newspaper  as  counsel  in  the  Brady 
breach  of  promise  case,  which  you  remem 
ber  made  some  stir.  With  an  old  woman's 
faith  she  assumed  that  it  must  be  I  and 
looked  me  up  at  the  office.  When  she  dis- 


58  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

covered  her  long  lost  boy,  as  she  styled  me, 
she  was  for  throwing  her  arms  around  my 
neck.  She  sobbed  with  delight,  and  I  be 
came  the  hero  of  a  somewhat  embarrassing 
spectacle.  Faithful  old  soul !  I  cannot  bear 
to  think  of  her  suffering." 

"  It  is  what  we  seem  to  be  made  for,"  ob 
served  the  sententious  student. 

"  But  then  most  of  us  deserve  it.  I  could 
almost  vouch  that  Margaret  never  did  an 
evil  action  in  her  life,"  said  Alleyn  as  he 
rang  at  the  entrance  to  the  hospital. 

Upon  mentioning  his  errand  to  the  servant 
who  came  to  the  door,  Alleyn  was  shown  into 
a  reception-room,  and  a  few  moments  later 
was  informed  that  he  was  to  go  upstairs 
to  the  invalid's  chamber.  He  told  Larkin 
to  remain  below  until  he  should  send  for 
him. 

"  How  is  Margaret  to-night  ?  "  he  asked  of 
the  girl  who  showed  him  the  way. 

"  The  doctor  thinks  she  may  live  a  day  or 
two  yet,  sir." 

On  the  first  landing  Alleyn  encountered  a 
pleasant-featured  woman  in  nun's  attire  who 
accorded  him  a  gracious  inclination  of  the 
head,  in  response  to  which  he  said : 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  50 

"  I'm  the  lawyer  whom  Margaret  Hogan 
sent  for." 

"  Yes,  she  is  expecting  you  ;  her  room  is 
up  another  flight.  The  Mother  is  with  her." 

"  Who  was  that  ?  "  he  inquired  of  the  ser 
vant  when  they  were  out  of  hearing. 

"  Sister  Veronica." 

Alleyn  was  struck  by  the  neatness  of  every 
thing  ;  the  walls  were  very  white,  and  as  he 
followed  the  girl  along  the  passage-way  he 
caught  a  glimpse  through  the  half-open  doors 
of  comfortable  looking  invalids  attended  now 
and  again  by  a  Sister  of  Charity.  He  re 
flected  that  Margaret  had  acted  wisely  in 
being  brought  there. 

"  You  may  go  right  in,  sir,"  said  the  girl, 
pushing  open  the  door  of  the  room  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  passage-way. 

Alleyn  entered  a  moderate -sized  chamber. 
At  first  he  perceived  only  his  old  nurse, 
whose  pallid,  wrinkled  face  riveted  his  atten 
tion.  Her  bed  was  near  the  door  and  she 
recognized  him  at  once,  grasping  eagerly  the 
hand  which  he  held  out  to  her  with  the  skin 
ny  fingers  of  both  of  her  own,  and  exclaim 
ing  :  "  You've  come  at  last.  I  thought  I'd 
die  before  you  come,  Master  Henry." 


60  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

"  Nonsense,  Margaret,  you  mustn't  talk 
that  way ;  you'll  be  better  in  a  day  or  two." 

"No,  no,  I'll  never  be  any  better,"  an 
swered  the  old  woman  in  a  tone  of  sad  con 
viction.  "  I'm  wore  out.  Sit  down,  Master 
Henry,  the  Mother'll  give  you  a  chair,"  she 
continued,  sinking  back  on  the  pillows  from 
which  she  had  raised  herself  a  little  in  her 
eagerness  to  greet  the  young  man. 

There  was  a  chair  a  few  feet  from  the  bed  ; 
while  reaching  for  it  Alleyn  lifted  his  eyes 
and  beheld  a  Sister  of  Charity  standing  in 
the  further  end  of  the  room  with  her  back  to 
the  window.  He  gave  a  perceptible  start  ; 
he  could  not  believe  that  he  saw  correctly. 
"  Cora!  "  he  ejaculated  below  his  breath,  then 
made  a  movement  as  if  to  step  forward, 
which  was  checked  by  the  demeanor  of  the 
nun,  who,  though  she  had  been  regarding 
him  since  his  entrance,  gave  no  sign  of  rec 
ognition  save  what  was  conveyed  to  Alleyn 
by  the  faint  blush  suffusing  her  countenance  ; 
even  this  was  now  fading  away,  betokening 
that  any  emotion  which  his  presence  had 
awakened  was  under  her  control.  As  he 
stood  confused  and  irresolute,  she  bent  her 
head  in  a  conventional  salute,  and  when  their 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  01 

eyes  met  again  there  was  no  vestige  of  mental 
agitation  on  her  face.  Her  complexion  had 
resumed  its  accustomed  marble — a  perfect 
whiteness,  rendered  all  the  more  striking  by 
the  blackness  of  her  hair  and  superb  eyes 
which  rivalled  in  sombreness  her  monastic 
garb.  She  stood  with  her  hands  folded 
placidl}7  before  her,  the  picture  of  a  tall,  com 
manding,  and  singularly  beautiful  woman. 

The  pause  was  broken  by  old  Margaret, 
who,  unaware  of  its  significance,  and  feeling 
perhaps  that  every  moment  was  precious  to 
her,  craned  her  head  out  of  bed  and  qua 
vered  :  "  This  is  the  Mother,  Master  Henry 
— I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  Mr.  Alley n.  She 
has  been  very  kind  to  me.  Don't  go,  Moth 
er,"  she  exclaimed  piteously,  as  the  nun, 
again  inclining  her  head,  stepped  toward  the 
door.  "  Master  Henry  won't  mind." 

"  You  had  better  stay,"  said  Alleyn,  com 
posedly  ;  "  it  will  distress  her  if  you  go,  and 
there  is  no  reason  for  privacy,  I  imagine." 

At  his  words  the  nun,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  withdrew  again  to  the  further  end 
of  the  room,  where  she  took  a  seat  by  the 
window.  Alleyn,  who,  though  his  voice  was 
steady,  felt  strangely  agitated,  was  glad  to 


f>2  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

be  recalled  to  his  professional  duty  by  the 
voice  of  the  dying  woman. 

"  You'll  find  everything  ready,  sir,  on  that 
little  table/' 

Following  the  direction  of  her  gaze,  he 
perceived  behind  him,  close  to  the  wainscot 
ing,  the  table  to  which  she  referred  and  on 
which  there  were  writing  materials  and  an 
accumulation  of  papers — most  of  them,  as  he 
perceived  at  a  glance,  receipted  bills.  He 
drew  it  toward  the  bed  and  seated  himself. 
His  head  was  in  a  whirl,  but  taking  up  a 
pen  he  said,  "You  wish  me  to  make  your 
will,  Margaret  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  fix  it  so  there  won't  bo  no 
trouble  after  I'm  gone." 

"  I  see.  To  whom  do  you  wish  to  leave 
your  money  ?  " 

"  Whom  should  I  be  leaving  it  to  but  your 
self,  Master  Henry  ?  " 

"  To  me  ?  Nonsense,  Margaret ;  I  don't 
wan't  your  money." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Master  Henry ;  you  and  no  one 
else.  Who  has  a  better  right  to  it  ?  You  as 
I  took  care  of  close  on  ten  year ! " 

"  I'm  a  thousand  times  obliged  to  you,  my 
kind  old  friend,"  said  Alleyn,  tenderly,  bend- 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  63 

ing  over  her,  "  but  I  would  rather  you  would 
make  some  other  disposition  of  it.  You  must 
have  relations " 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  the  sick  woman 
peevishly  ;  "  there's  not  a  dollar  of  it  to  go 
to  my  relations.  They  never  came  near  me 
while  I  was  alive.  There's  no  one  I  care  for 
but  you.  I  said  to  Mother  Eulalie  this  morn 
ing,  'Send  for  Master  Henry  and  I'll  die 
happy.'  I've  thought  it  all  out  and  I  know 
just  what  I  want." 

"  You  will  make  a  much  better  use  of  what 
you  have  if  you  leave  it  in  charity — to  your 
Church,  for  instance,"  persisted  Alleyn. 

"  No,  no,"  she  reiterated ;  "I  want  it  all  to 
go  to  you.  And,  Master  Henry,"  she  whis 
pered,  confidentially,  reaching  out  her  hand 
and  laying  it  upon  Alleyn's,  "  you'll  see  there 
are  masses  said  for  me  and  I'm  put  in  a  de 
cent  grave  ?  I  don't  like  them  tombs.  I  had 
the  undertaker  here  this  morning  and  told 
him  all  about  burying  me,  so  you'll  have  no 
trouble." 

To  draw  a  will  in  his  own  favor  was  dis 
tasteful  to  Alleyn,  but  he  reflected  that  the 
presence  of  Mother  Eulalie,  who,  from  where 
she  was  sitting,  must  be  able  to  hear  every 


64  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

word  of  their  conversation,  would  preclude 
the  possibility  of  disagreeable  charges  being 
brought  against  him  by  the  next  of  kin.  He 
was  anxious,  moreover,  to  get  the  matter  over 
as  soon  as  possible,  for  memories  foreign  to 
what  he  had  in  hand,  and  not  altogether 
pleasant,  were  thronging  his  brain.  He 
glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  nun  ;  she  was 
staring  straight  before  her  at  the  blank  wall, 
and  Alleyn's  gaze  was  fettered  a  moment  by 
the  beauty  of  her  profile.  He  sighed  and 
turned  back  his  e}7es  again  to  the  bed,  with 
the  compressed  lips  of  one  who  feels  that 
what,  however  lamentable,  has  been  done, 
is  done,  and  that  it  is  useless  to  deplore. 

"  Of  course,  I  am  bound  to  obey  your 
wishes  in  the  matter,  Margaret,"  he  answered ; 
"  if  you  really  desire  to  leave  your  property 
to  me.  I  must  draw  your  will  to  that  effect. 
Only- 

"  That's  it,  Master  Henry." 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  and  after  a  moment's 
reflection  dipped  a  pen  in  the  ink  and  began 
to  write.  The  will  was  a  very  .simple  one 
and  took  Alley n  barely  ten  minutes  to  draw. 
By  its  terms  all  the  estate  of  Margaret  Hogan, 
of  whatever  kind,  both  real  and  personal, 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  KYK  C5 

wherever  situated  and  whenever  acquired,  was 
given,  devised,  and  bequeathed  to  Henry 
Alleyn,  his  heirs,  executors,  and  adminis 
trators,  to  his  and  their  own  use  and  behoof 
forever.  Said  Henry  Alleyn  was  also  ap 
pointed  Executor  with  the  usual  powers  dele 
gated  ;  that  was  the  whole  instrument.  When 
he  had  finished  he  told  Margaret  that  he  must 
read  it  to  her,  which  he  did,  in  a  slow,  dis 
tinct  voice  so  that  she  might  understand 
every  word.  While  so  doing,  he  glanced  for 
an  instant  in  Mother  Eulalie's  direction,  but 
it  did  not  seem  to  him  that  she  was  paying 
attention. 

"Is  that  as  you  wish  it,  Margaret?"  he  in 
quired  at  the  close. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  it's  beautiful.  Now  I  shall 
die  happy." 

Just  then  the  door  was  pushed  open  and 
Sister  Veronica  appeared.  "  It's  tho  doctor," 
she  said  ;  "  may  he  come  in  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Alleyn,  "he's  the  very 
person  I  want  to  see.  Will  you  kindly  re 
main  too  ?  "  he  added  to  Sister  Veronica  as 
he  stepped  past  her  to  intercept  the  physician 
before  he  should  enter.  "I  shall  need  you 
presently." 


66  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

The  interchange  of  a  few  words  in  the  pas 
sage-way  assured  Alleyn  that  Margaret's  fac 
ulties  were  entirely  unclouded  in  the  estima 
tion  of  the  doctor,  who  did  not  hesitate  to 
pronounce  her  competent  to  make  a  will,  and 
who  also  consented  to  act  as  an  attesting  wit 
ness.  Alleyn  then  sent  for  John  Larkin,  and 
while  the  clerk  was  coming  Margaret  was 
propped  up  on  the  pillows  by  Sister  Veronica. 

"  How  long  will  she  live  ?  "  whispered 
Alleyn. 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "May 
be  a  week,  and  she  may  die  to-morrow.  It's 
impossible  to  say  in  such  cases." 

Larkin  made  his  appearance  just  when  the 
old  woman  had  got  on  her  spectacles.  Mother 
Eulalie  was  still  in  the  background,  and 
Alleyn  chose  to  remain  as  indifferent  to  her 
presence  as  she  seemed  to  be  to  his. 

He  looked  at  Sister  Veronica  and  said  :  "I 
have  asked  you  to  remain  to  witness  this  will," 
then  turned  and  indicating  a  spot  on  the 
paper  said :  "  You  will  sign  here,  Margaret." 

With  infinite  pains  the  old  woman  feebly 
scrawled  her  signature. 

"  I  ain't  much  of  a  writer,"  she  observed, 
squinting  ruefully  at  her  handiwork. 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYK  67 

"  It  will  do  very  well,"  said  Alleyn.  "  Now, 
Doctor.  Margaret,"  he  added,  "  I  understand 
you  to  declare  this  to  be  your  last  will  and 
testament." 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  answered  in  rather  a  be 
wildered  fashion.  She  had  fallen  back  ex 
hausted. 

"  And  it  is  your  wish  that  these  three  per 
sons — Dr.  Holbrook,  Sister  Veronica,  and  my 
clerk,  Mr.  Larkin — should  sign  as  attesting 
witnesses." 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  witnesses  signed  in  the  order  de 
scribed. 

"  You  should  sign  your  real  name,  you 
know,"  Alleyn  remarked  to  the  Sister. 

"I  know,"  she  said,  and  wrote  "  Catharine 
Sullivan." 

"  That  is  all ;  thank  you  very  much,"  said 
Alleyn  when  the  last  had  finished.  The  doc 
tor  and  Sister  Veronica  immediately  took  their 
leave.  "  I  shall  not  need  you  any  longer," 
he  added  to  Larkin.  "Don't  wait  for  me." 

Alleyn  sat  down  beside  the  bed  and  began 
to  fold  up  the  will. 

"  I  shall  die  happy,  now,"  Margaret  reiter 
ated. 


CS  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

11  You  mustn't  think  of  dying  ;  yon  must 
think  of  getting  well,"  he  felt  prompted  to 
say. 

"  Yon'll  find  everything  right,"  she  con 
tinued,  without  heed.  "  The  Mother  went 
to  my  house  yesterday  and  got  the  bank 
books  and  things.  There's  what  I've  paid 
out  in  repairs  and  groceries  since  the  first," 
she  added,  pointing  with  pride  to  the  pile  of 
bills  on  the  table.  "  I  told  the  Mother  you'd 
ought  to  have  them.  The  other  things " 

"Yes,  yes,  Margaret,  it'll  be  time  enough 
by  and  by,"  he  said,  cheerily,  getting  up  and 
bending  over  her.  "  You'll  be  better  to-mor 
row,  and  I'll  come  to  see  you.  I'm  afraid  of 
tiring  you." 

"  Good-by,  Master  Henry,  good-by.  And 
you'll  remember  to  have  the  masses  said  for 
me?" 

"Never  fear,  you  dear  old  soul." 

He  kissed  her  softly  on  the  forehead,  then 
as  he  turned  to  go  looked  toward  the  window. 
Mother  Eulalie  was  sitting  with  her  hands 
folded  before  her,  still  staring  at  the  blank 
wall.  She  might  have  been  a  statue. 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  69 


MARGARET  HOGAN  died  that  night.  A  sud 
den  stroke  of  apoplexy  relieved  her  from  fur 
ther  suffering.  Alleyn  was  shocked  to  hear 
that  she  was  dead  from  the  undertaker  who 
came  to  his  office  on  the  following  morning 
for  instructions.  He  gave  the  necessary  or 
ders  for  her  interment,  and  a  day  or  two  after 
his  old  nurse  had  been  laid  in  her  grave  filed 
the  will,  which  he  had  drawn,  at  the  Probate 
Office  with  a  petition  to  be  appointed  Execu 
tor.  Not  knowing  who  were  Margaret's  next 
of  kin,  he  published  an  order  of  notice,  and 
on  the  day  fixed  for  the  hearing,  as  no  re 
monstrants  appeared,  he  had  no  difficulty  in 
obtaining  letters  of  administration  from  the 
Court.  There  was,  however,  a  right  of  ap 
peal  open  for  thirty  days. 

Meantime,  Alleyn  took  no  steps  to  reduce 
the  estate  into  possession,  beyond  visiting 
the  house  and  seeing  that  it  was  properly 
closed.  He  assumed,  from  what  Margaret 
had  said,  that  her  bank-books  and  any  other 
property  belonging  to  her  were  in  the  custody 
of  Mother  Eulalie,  and  for  reasons  of  his  own 


70  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

he  was  in  no  hurry  to  revisit  the  Sisterhood 
of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul. 

But  after  the  thirty  days  had  elapsed  he 
felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  exercise  his 
duties  as  Executor.  It  occurred  to  him  that 
the  simplest  plan  was  to  send  John  Larkin 
to  request  Mother  Eulalie  to  deliver  over  the 
effects  of  the  testatrix.  As  a  matter  of  cau 
tion,  however,  he  told  him  to  stop  at  the 
Probate  Office  on  the  way,  to  make  sure  that 
no  appeal  had  been  entered.  Half  an  hour 
later  the  student  reappeared  with  a  sardonic 
grin  on  his  countenance. 

"  There  is  one,"  he  said,  and  produced  a 
paper  which  he  handed  to  Alleyn. 

The  lawyer  received  the  copy  of  the  record 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  but  after  pe 
rusing  it  for  a  moment  knit  his  brows  and 
observed :  "  This  is  confounded  impudence. 
Whom  have  they  retained?  " 

•  "  Koger  K.   Harper,"   responded  Larkin, 
with  another  grin. 

The  counsel  mentioned  was  one  of  the 
most  successful  jury  lawyers  in  the  commu 
nity,  but  a  man  not  over  nice  in  the  devices  he 
employed  to  secure  verdicts,  and  more  or  less 
of  a  demagogue. 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  71 

The  document  recited  that  an  appeal  was 
claimed  by  John  Rooney  and  Ellen  Rooney, 
next  of  kin,  from  the  decree  of  the  Court  al 
lowing  a  certain  instrument  offered  for  pro 
bate  by  Henry  Alleyn,  wherein  said  Alleyn 
was  named  as  Executor,  as  the  last  will  and 
testament  of  Margaret  Hogan,  deceased. 
Two  of  the  reasons  given,  being  those  ordi 
narily  alleged  in  probate  appeals,  were  the 
mental  unsoundness  of  the  testatrix  and  un 
due  influence  on  the  part  of  said  Henry  Al 
leyn  ;  but  the  third  was  of  more  unusual  ten 
or,  setting  forth  that  said  instrument  offered 
for  probate  was  not  the  last  will  and  testa 
ment  of  Margaret  Hogan,  inasmuch  as  said 
instrument  had  been  fraudulently  altered  in 
the  making  by  said  Henry  Alleyn. 

Alleyn  tossed  the  paper  on  his  desk  with  a 
contemptuous  air.  "  It  is  ODe  of  Harper's 
blood-sucking  devices,"  he  said.  "  He  means 
to  bleed  me  if  he  can.  He  has  fastened  on 
the  wrong  man  though,  as  he  will  find  out." 

The  appeal  could  not  be  heard  for  three 
months,  so  Alleyn  gave  the  matter  but  small 
heed.  So  far  as  desire  for  the  money  was 
concerned,  he  would  willingly  have  relin 
quished  all  claim  to  it ;  but  he  felt  bound 


72  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

to  respect  Margaret's  intention.  She  had 
evidently  preferred  to  cut  off  her  relatives, 
and  Alleyn  argued  that  it  would  hardly 
be  respectful  if  he  should  vacate  his  rights 
merely  to  dispose  of  a  disagreeable  suit  which 
was  absolutely  groundless.  Until  the  appeal 
should  be  tried  his  powers  as  Executor  were 
suspended.  Accordingly  he  addressed  a  for 
mal  letter  to  the  Sisterhood  of  St.  Vincent  de 
Paul,  to  the  effect  that  as  certain  complica 
tions  had  arisen  in  relation  to  the  affairs  of 
the  late  Margaret  Hogan,  her  Executor  would 
await  their  settlement  before  taking  posses 
sion  of  the  property  of  the  deceased.  To 
this  communication  Alleyn  received  no  an 
swer. 

As  time  wore  on  he  was  rather  surprised 
at  hearing  nothing  from  the  other  side.  He 
fully  expected  to  be  approached  with  a  view 
to  a  compromise,  and  had  been  looking  for 
ward  to  the  amusement  he  should  derive 
from  disappointing  his  pettifogging  oppo 
nent.  To  make  the  first  advances  himself 
would  be  clearly  an  admission  of  weakness. 
Besides,  he  was  resolved  not  to  pay  a  dollar. 
When  a  week  before  the  day  of  trial  he  had 
still  heard  nothing  he  put  his  case  into  the 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  73 

hands  of  Charles  Davenant,  an  intimate  friend 
and  brother  lawyer  of  repute,  who  was  some 
years  his  senior. 

"It's  a  fishing  excursion,  I  take  it,"  said 
Mr.  Davenant,  when  Alleyn  had  finished  his 
recital. 

"  I  had  supposed  so,  certainly.  But  I'm 
at  a  loss  to  understand  why  Harper  has  not 
been  near  me.  There  must  be  some  cat  in 
the  meal,  I  am  beginning  to  think,  though  I 
can't  imagine  what.  Dr.  Holbrook  will  tes 
tify  as  to  Margaret's  mental  condition,  and  as 
to  undue  influence  there  isn't  a  shadow  of 
evidence.  The  only  time  she  ever  spoke  to 
me  about  her  will  was  the  day  she  made  it." 

"  How  about  the  third  reason  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Davenant.  "  It  is  so  unusual  that  I  should 
judge  they  expected  to  make  something  out 
of  it." 

"  It  is  insulting  enough,  I  admit ;  but  what 
have  they  got  to  substantiate  it  ?  "  said  Al 
leyn,  with  some  irritation. 

"  You  say  that  while  you  were  drawing  the 
will  there  was  no  one  in  the  room  except  this 
Mother  Eulalie?" 

"Yes." 

"What  sort  of  a  looking  woman  was  she  ?  " 


74:  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

"  A  young  woman — a  very  handsome  wom 
an,"  said  Alleyn,  with  slow  emphasis. 

"  Could  she  have  heard  your  client's  con 
versation  ?  " 

"  She  could  have  heard  it,  unquestionably, 
but  I  doubt  very  much  if  she  did.  I  looked 
at  her  several  times,  and  on  each  occasion 
she  seemed  to  me  not  to  be  paying  the  slight 
est  attention  to  what  was  going  on.  She  was 
sitting  close  to  the  window  some  twenty-five 
feet  away.  You  see  I  have  considered  the 
situation.  But  what  if  she  did  hear  us  ?  "  he 
added,  with  a  nervous  laugh. 

"  Have  you  been  to  see  her  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Davenant. 

"No.  I — er — I  thought  it  better  not. 
Don't  you  think  it  would  be  compromis- 
ing?" 

The  senior  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I 
appreciate  your  point,  of  course,  but  I  do 
not  regard  it  as  of  much  moment.  By  so 
doing  you  could  relieve  your  uncertainty  and 
ascertain  whether  or  not  to  summon  her  as  a 
witness.  If  her  testimony  corroborates  yours, 
there's  an  end  of  the  whole  business.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  fails  to  do  so,  you  will  not 
be  caught  unprepared." 


AN  ETE  FOR  AN  EYE  75 

"  How  can  her  testimony  fail  to  corrobo 
rate  mine  ? "  Alleyn  asked,  with  another 
touch  of  indignation. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  fellow,  there  you  ask  conun 
drums.  Forewarned  is  forearmed,  that's  all. 
If  there  is  anything  in  the  case  beyond  mere 
bluff,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  it  must  be 
in  connection  with  this  Mother  Eulalie,  as 
you  call  her.  She  may  have  looked  wise  or 
dropped  dark  hints  which  these  ignorant  peo 
ple  have  repeated  to  brother  Harper.  When 
you  have  been  in  practice  as  long  as  I  have 
you  will  appeciate  that  you  can  never  be 
sure  what  anyone  will  testify  —  especially  a 
woman." 

Alleyn  frowned  and  looked  annoyed. 

"  I  understood  you  to  state  that  you  asked 
the  testatrix  if  she  didn't  wish  to  leave  some 
thing  to  the  Church,"  continued  Mr.  Dave- 
nant. 

"  Yes ;  and  she  said  distinctly  that  she  did 
not." 

"  Precisely.  Supposing  Mother  Eulalie 
testifies  that  she  heard  differently  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  a  falsehood,"  protested  Al 
leyn,  with  a  warmth  that  amused  the  older 
lawyer. 


76  ^V  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

"  The  jury  would  have  to  pass  upon  that," 
was  the  dry  comment. 

Alleyn  drummed  on  the  table  reflectively 
for  a  few  moments.  "  I  don't  care  to  go  to 
see  her,"  he  said,  at  length.  "  I'll  take  the 
chance,"  he  added,  with  an  effort  at  noncha 
lance. 

"  Ninety-nine  chances  out  of  a  hundred 
you  will  be  just  as  well  off,"  said  Mr.  Dav- 
enant. 

A  few  days  later  Alleyn  read  in  one  of  the 
morning  papers  the  following  statement : 
"  Among  the  causes  set  down  for  trial  at  the 
current  term  of  the  Supreme  Court  is  Henry 
Alleyn,  Executor,  v.  John  Eooney  and  Ellen 
Rooney,  appellants  ;  an  appeal  from  the  find 
ing  of  the  Probate  Court  of  this  County,  al 
lowing  the  will  of  one  Margaret  Hogan,  who 
died  during  the  last  six  months,  leaving  an 
estate  valued  at  thirty  thousand  dollars,  all 
of  which  by  the  terms  of  the  will  was  be 
queathed  to  Henry  Alleyn,  a  lawyer  of  this 
city.  The  next  of  kin,  first  cousins  of  the 
testatrix,  allege  in  their  petition  insanity,  un 
due  influence,  and  fraudulent  alteration  of  the 
contents  of  the  will  by  Mr.  Alleyn,  who  ap 
pears  to  have  drawn  the  instrument  in  ques- 


AN  EYE  FOR  A3  ETE  77 

tion.  Hon.  Roger  K.  Harper  has  been  re 
tained  to  represent  the  interests  of  the 
appellants,  and  it  is  reported  that  there  will 
be  peculiar  and  startling  developments  at  the 
trial." 

"Thirty  thousand  dollars!  Bah!"  said 
Alleyn  to  himself  after  the  disagreeable 
smart  occasioned  by  seeing  his  name  in  print 
in  such  a  connection  had  subsided.  "  Though, 
to  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  know  what  she  left. 
The  house  is  worth  six  thousand.  This  busi 
ness  has  taught  me  one  lesson :  never  to 
draw  a  will  in  my  own  favor  again.  Pshaw ! " 
he  added,  reflectively.  "Even  if  Cora  wishes 
to  do  me  an  injury,  what  can  she  say  ?  " 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  fixed  for  the 
trial  Alleyn  came  into  the  court-room  with  a 
deliberately  cheery  air.  Counsel  were  already 
in  their  places  and  there  was  a  considerable 
number  of  lookers  on.  He  glanced  at  once 
toward  the  benches  reserved  for  witnesses  and 
recognized  only  Dr.  Holbrook,  whom  he  had 
summoned  to  be  present.  Just  then  the  at 
tention  of  every  one  was  attracted  by  the  un 
accustomed  entrance  of  two  Sisters  of  Char 
ity,  the  first  of  whom,  as  she  walked  behind 
the  usher  to  a  seat,  he  perceived  to  be 


78  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

Mother  Eulalie;  the  other  was  Sister  Ve 
ronica.  Her  he  had  been  obliged  to  send  for 
as  a  witness.  But  why  had  Mother  Eulalie 
come  ?  Possibly  as  a  companion.  So  at 
least  Alleyn  tried  to  persuade  himself  as  he 
sat  down  beside  his  counsel.  The  appearance 
of  the  nuns  was  evidently  matter  for  conject 
ure,  to  judge  from  the  wagging  and  craning 
of  heads.  The  court-room  seemed  to  have 
become  animated.  Alleyn  did  not  choose  to 
look  again,  but  Mr.  Davenant  turned  his 
head  with  the  rest. 

"  Is  that  she  ?  "  he  said  in  a  whisper,  nudg 
ing  Alleyn. 

"  Yes." 

"  The  handsome  one  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  She's  an  extraordinarily  beautiful  woman." 

The  entrance  of  the  Court,  at  which  every 
body  rose,  put  an  end  to  their  dialogue. 

"  What  is  the  first  case  on  the  list,  Mr. 
Clerk  ?  "  asked  the  Judge. 

"  Henry  Alleyn,  Executor,  v.  John  Eooney 
and  Ellen  Eooney,  appellants." 

"  Are  both  parties  ready  ?  " 

The  Counsel  signified  that  they  were,  and 
after  the  jury  had  been  impanelled,  Mr.  Dav- 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  79 

enant,  upon  whom  it  was  incumbent  to  take 
the  initiative  so  far  as  to  prove  the  will  over 
again,  called  his  witnesses  to  be  sworn.  They 
were  the  three  attesting  witnesses  to  the  will. 
He  first  put  Dr.  Holbrook  on  the  stand, 
who  acknowledged  his  own  signature,  de 
clared  that  he  had  seen  the  testatrix  sign  the 
will,  and  in  answer  to  a  series  of  carefully 
framed  questions  stated  that  he  had  attended 
Margaret  Hogan  from  the  time  she  entered 
the  hospital  until  her  death,  that  her  intelli 
gence  was  unclouded  during  that  period,  and 
that  he  regarded  her  as  entirely  qualified,  so 
far  as  her  mental  condition  was  concerned,  to 
dispose  of  her  property. 

"  He  is  your  witness,"  said  Mr.  Davenant  to 
his  opponent. 

"I  understand  you,  Doctor,  that  you  con 
sider  the  testatrix  to  have  been  of  thoroughly 
sound  mind  at  the  time  of  the  execution  of  this 
instrument  ?  "  said  Roger  Harper,  slowly. 

"I  do,  sir." 

"  I  think  you  said,  Doctor,  that  though  her 
bodily  condition  was  enfeebled,  her  intellect 
was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  unaffected — 
that,  in  short,  she  knew  perfectly  well  what 
she  was  about  ?  " 


80  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

"  I  did,  sir,"  answered  Dr.  Holbrook  in  a 
decided  tone,  which  showed  that  he  was  little 
in  sympathy  with  his  questioner. 

"Precisely,"  said  the  lawyer.  He  looked 
around  the  court-room  with  an  air  of  triumph, 
as  though  the  testimony  of  the  witness  was 
exactly  to  his  liking. 

"  One  more  question,  Doctor.  "Were  you 
present  while  this  will  was  being  drawn  ?  " 

"  I  was  not." 

"  Am  I  not  right  in  saying  that  you  saw  or 
knew  nothing  of  the  making  of  this  will  be 
yond  the  fact  that  the  testatrix  signed  it  in 
your  presence  ?  " 

"  That  is  all  I  know,  sir." 

"  Precisely.     That  will  do,  Doctor." 

John  Larkin  was  the  next  witness.  He 
testified  to  having  seen  the  testatrix  sign  her 
name.  Upon  cross-examination  Roger  Har 
per  asked  him  but  one  question — the  same 
which  he  had  put  to  the  doctor — "  Were 
you  present  while  this  will  was  being 
drawn  ?  " 

"  I  was  present  after  it  had  been  drawn," 
replied  the  student,  sophistically. 

"  I  did  not  ask  you  whether  you  were  pres 
ent  after  it  had  been  drawn,  Mr.  Larkin. 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  81 

You  will  please  answer  my  question.  Were 
— you  —  present  —  while — this — will — was  — 
being — drawn  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  That  is  all,  Mr.  Larkin." 

"They  evidently  mean  to  base  their  case 
on  the  charge  of  fraudulent  alteration," 
whispered  Mr.  Davenant  to  Alleyn,  as  he 
summoned  Catharine  Sullivan,  alias  Sister 
Veronica,  to  the  stand. 

The  pleasant-featured  nun  seemed  bewil 
dered,  and  testified  in  an  unintelligent  way  to 
her  own  signature,  and  to  having  seen  Marga 
ret  Hogan  sign. 

"  Were  you  present  while  the  will  was  be 
ing  drawn,  Sister  Veronica  ?  "  asked  Roger 
Harper,  when  his  turn  to  cross-examine 
came. 

"  No,  sir,  I  knew  nothing  about  it  what 
ever,"  answered  the  witness  with  a  prompti 
tude  that  caused  Mr.  Davenant  to  mutter  to 
Alleyn  :  "They've  fixed  her,  that's  evident." 

"  That's  all,  Sister  Veronica,"  said  Roger 
Harper. 

Mr.  Davenant  then  claimed  that  his  client 
had  established  a  prima  facie  case,  to  which 
his  Honor  assented. 
6 


8'2  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

"I  am  ready  to  hear  your  evidence,  Mr. 
Harper,"  said  the  Judge. 

Roger  Harper  rose  slowly  and  came  for 
ward.  He  was  a  large  man,  in  the  prime  of 
middle  life,  with  a  prominent  hawk's  nose, 
deep-set,  lustrous  eyes,  and  a  smooth-shaven, 
forcible  upper  lip.  His  iron-gray  hair  fell 
low  on  his  forehead,  and  almost  mingled  with 
his  bushy  brows. 

"  May  it  please  the  Court,"  he  began  ;  "Mr. 
Foreman  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  in  the 
course  of  a  long  professional  experience — and 
mine  has  been  an  active  experience  of  thirty 
years — I  have  never  been  called  upon  to  pre 
sent  evidence  so  remarkable  in  its  charac 
ter  as  that  which  it  has  become  my  painful 
duty  to  lay  before  you.  Far  be  it  from  me  to 
to  desire  the  ruin  of  any  brother  in  that  pro 
fession  of  which  I  am  proud  to  call  myself  a 
member — a  profession  whose  prosperity  is 
founded  upon  the  trust  which  the  great  pub 
lic,  to  which  you,  gentlemen,  belong,  repose 
in  the  integrity,  uprightness,  and  honor  of 
those  who  constitute  it.  But,  gentlemen, 
worthy  of  implicit  belief  as  I  hold  the  word 
of  a  lawyer  to  be,  it  is  for  you  to  say  whether 
it  is  not  outweighed  in  the  scale  of  verity  by 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  83 

the  evidence  of  one  who  comes  in  the  sacred 
vestments  of  religion  to  confront  yea  with  nay. 
I  shall  produce  in  this  case,  gentlemen  of  the 
jury,  but  one  witness.  But  through  the  testi 
mony  of  that  one  witness  I  expect  to  overthrow 
this  will  offered  for  probate,  by  proving  that 
its  contents  were  fraudulently  altered  by  Hen 
ry  Alleyn,  the  Executor  therein  named  and  a 
member  of  this  Bar.  It  is  the  saddest  duty 
which  I  have  ever  had  to  perform.  If  you  find 
a  verdict  in  my  favor  it  will  mean  profes 
sional  disgrace  and  downfall  for  him  whom  I 
have  mentioned ;  but  if  you  find  that  Mar 
garet  Hogan  executed  her  will  in  this  man's 
favor,  meaning  so  to  do — and,  gentlemen,  the 
doctor  has  told  you  she  was  in  her  right 
mind — you  will  have  to  declare  that  Mother 
Eulalie,  the  Superior  of  the  Sisterhood  of  St. 
Vincent  de  Paul,  has  been  guilty  of  the  black 
est  perjury." 

He  paused,  and  one  could  have  heard  a  pin 
drop  in  the  court-room.  Those  who  knew 
Alleyn  glanced  at  him.  He  sat  with  folded 
arms  smiling  contemptuously,  but  Mr.  Dave- 
nant  looked  rather  grave. 

"  Mother  Eulalie,  you  will  come  forward  and 
be  sworn,"  said  Roger  Harper. 


84  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EY& 

Amid  profound  stillness  the  nun  passed  up 
the  aisle  to  where  the  clerk  was  standing 
ready  to  administer  the  oath.  Her  beauty 
was  absorbing.  Men  were  at  a  loss,  perhaps, 
to  understand  how  it  happened  that  curves  so 
full  of  symmetry,  and  eyes  so  lustrous,  should 
be  shrouded  by  the  apparel  of  the  cloister. 
Save  for  the  pallor  of  her  complexion  there 
was  almost  a  suggestion  of  fleshliness  in  the 
luscious  contour  of  face  and  figure,  but,  after 
the  first  glance,  those  gazing  fancied  that  they 
saw  the  devout  servant  of  God  who,  branded 
by  the  iron  of  mortal  woe,  has  sought  refuge 
on  the  bosom  of  the  Church.  She  might  well 
be  a  saint  because  she  had  been  a  sinner; 
and  yet  no  demure,  bloodless  embodiment  of 
sanctity,  but  vital  still  with  the  human  forces 
of  energy  and  passion.  Even  the  crucifix 
upon  her  breast  seemed  to  rise  and  fall  with 
the  undulations  of  a  breast  through  which 
the  tide  of  life  flowed  far  from  sluggishly. 
She  was  one  of  whom  the  Church  might  have 
been  proud  in  the  clays  when  the  mandates 
of  its  functionaries  wrested  sceptres  from  the 
grasp  of  kings.  So  the  spectators  thought  of 
her  as  she  stood  with  uplifted  hand  in  obedi 
ence  to  the  bidding  of  the  clerk. 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  85 

"  You  do  solemnly  swear  that  in  the  cause 
now  in  hearing  you  will  speak  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  so 
help  you  God." 

"  I  do,  so  help  me  God,"  she  murmured, 
and  she  looked,  as  it  appeared  to  Alleyn, 
straight  at  him. 

"What  is  your  full  name?"  asked  Koger 
Harper. 

"  Cora  Lloyd  Dennison." 

"  And  your  occupation  ?  " 

"  I  am  the  Mother  Superior  of  the  Sister 
hood  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  in  this  city." 

"  Where  you  are  known  as  Mother  Eulalie, 
I  believe  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  the  Mother  Su 
perior  of  the  Sisterhood  ?  " 

"Five  years.  I  came  there  twelve  years 
ago,  but  was  a  Sister  during  seven  years." 

"  Now,  Mother  Eulalie,  I  should  like  you 
to  tell  the  jury  in  your  own  words  exactly 
what  you  know,  if  you  know  anything,  in  re 
gard  to  the  making  of  the  alleged  will  of 
Margaret  Hogan  on  the  fifth  day  of  November 
last  past." 

"  I  was  sitting  in  the  sick  woman's  rooin 


86  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  that 
day,"  she  began  slowly,  "  when  a  gentleman 
entered — a  lawyer,  who  said  that  he  had 
come  to  make  her  will.  She  was  expecting 
him,  for  she  had  told  me  to  send  for  him 
early  in  the  day,  as  she  thought  she  was  go 
ing  to  die." 

"  Do  yon  remember  the  gentleman's  name  ?  " 

"  I  do.     Henry  Alleyn." 

"  Do  you  see  him  here  ?  " 

"  I  do.     He  is  sitting  right  in  front  of  me." 

"  Go  on." 

"  There  was  no  one  in  the  room  except  us 
three.  He  sat  down  beside  the  bed  at  a 
table.  I  was  sitting  by  the  window  at  the 
further  end  of  the  room." 

"  At  what  distance  were  you  from  the  bed  ?  " 

"  About  twenty-five  feet.  They  both  spoke 
in  rather  a  low  tone,  but  I  could  hear  per 
fectly  the  conversation.  He  said,  '  Margaret, 
whom  do  you  wish  to  leave  your  money  to  ?  ' 
'  Master  Henry,'  she  said,  *  I  want  it  to  go  to 
the  Church,  every  dollar  of  it.'  " 

"  Go  on." 

"  '  Have  you  no  relations  ?  '  "  he  asked.  '  I 
don't  want  it  to  go  to  my  relations,  Master 
Henrv,  I  want  the  Church  to  have  it.'  *  Very 


.'LV  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  87 

well ;  you  must  tell  me  what  churches,'  he 
answered.  '  The  Church  of  tho  Redeemer 
and  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Virgin  ;  each 
half.  You'll  know  how  to  do  it.'  'I  under 
stand,  Margaret.  There  should  be  an  Exec 
utor  appointed,  though.'  '  Couldn't  you  be 
the  Executor,  Master  Henry ?  '  'If  you  wish 
me  to.'  'You  fix  it  so,' she  said.  After  that 
he  began  to  write.  When  he  had  finished  he 
read  it  to  her  and  the  contents  ran  exactly  as 
the  will  which  is  offered  as  the  true  will,  ex 
cepting  that  all  the  property  was  left  to  be 
divided  between  the  two  churches  instead  of 
to  Mr.  Alleyn.  Then  the  others  came  in  and 
she  signed  the  will." 

There  was  a  death-like  stillness  in  the 
court.  Again  every  one  looked  at  Alleyn. 
He  had  flushed  violently  at  her  convicting 
words,  and  was  bending  forward  staring  at 
her  with  an  expression  that  was  half  terror, 
half  bewilderment.  Charles  Davenant,  too, 
was  watching  her  with  keen  scrutiny.  Her 
marvellous  story  had  been  told  simply  and 
without  effort.  There  had  been  no  hesita 
tion,  no  embarrassment.  Only  the  griumess 
of  it  made  men  who  knew  Henry  Alleyn  re 
flect  that  it  could  not  be  true. 


88  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

"  You  say  that  the  conversation  between 
the  testatrix  and  Mr.  Alleyn  was  in  rather  a 
low  tone,"  continued  Roger  Harper,  after 
there  had  been  a  pause  sufficient  to  allow  the 
evidence  to  impress  the  minds  of  the  jury. 
"  Can  you  give  any  idea  of  how  low  ?  " 

"About  as  low  as  I  am  speaking  now,"  she 
said,  sinking  her  voice  a  very  little.  "  But 
not  a  single  word  escaped  me.  I  listened  at 
first  inadvertently,  then  because  I  happened 
to  notice  Mr.  Alleyn  glance  at  me  once  or 
twice  as  though  to  ascertain  if  I  were  listen 
ing.  I  heard  everything." 

"What  became  of  the  will  after  it  was 
signed  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Alleyn  took  it  away  with  him." 

"  Whether  or  not  the  testatrix  ever  took 
the  will  into  her  own  hands  and  read  it  ?  " 

"  She  never  did." 

"  Is  there  any  other  evidence  that  you  can 
give  which  will  throw  light  upon  this  matter, 
Mother  Eulalie?" 

"  I  have  these,"  she  said,  producing  a  num 
ber  of  bank-books.  "  Margaret  Hogan  sent 
me  to  her  house  for  them  the  day  before  she 
died.  'They're  to  go  to  the  Church,'  she 
sa " 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  89 

"  I  object,  your  Honor,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Davenaut. 

"  There  is  a  question  here,  your  Honor," 
replied  Roger  Harper,  "  as  to  whether  or  not 
the  testatrix  wished  to  dispose  of  her  prop 
erty  according  to  the  terms  of  this  will  of 
fered  by  my  brother.  It  seems  to  me  that 
contemporaneous  declarations  of  the  testatrix 
are  admissible  to  show  fraud  on  the  part  of 
the  person  who  drew  the  will." 

The  Judge  reflected  a  moment.  "I  shall 
admit  the  evidence,"  he  said,  finally.  "  You 
may  continue,"  he  added,  to  the  witness. 

"  '  They're  to  go  to  the  Church,'  she  said  ; 
'  I  want  you  to  take  care  of  them.'  " 

"  What  is  the  amount  of  money  which 
these  books  represent  ?  "  asked  Roger  Har 
per. 

"  Between  twenty-four  and  twenty-five  thou 
sand  dollars." 

"  There  is  only  one  remaining  question  that 
I  wish  to  put  to  you,  Mother  Eulalie.  State 
whether  or  not  you  had  ever  seen  or  known 
Henry  Alleyn  before  you  saw  him  on  the  day 
when  this  will  was  drawn?  " 

The  nun  deliberately  fixed  her  brilliant 
eyes  on  the  young  man,  and  they  seemed  to 


90  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

him  to  wear  an  expression  of  triumph  as  she 
said,  firmly,  "  I  had  never  seen  him  or  heard 
of  him  in  my  life," 

Alieyn,  who  was  awaiting  her  response 
with  impatience,  threw  himself  back  in  his 
chair  aghast.  "  Ask  her  " — he  whispered 
feverishly,  bending  toward  his  counsel ;  then 
he  stopped  and  fell  back  again.  "  It's  a  lie," 
he  muttered  so  that  many  heard  him. 

"She  is  your  witness,"  said  Roger  Harper. 

The  cross-examination  of  a  beautiful  wom 
an  is  at  best  no  easy  matter.  Charles  Dav- 
enant  put  his  questions  with  admirable  skill, 
but  failed  to  catch  Mother  Eulalie  tripping 
in  a  single  particular.  He  made  her  re 
hearse  in  detail  everything  that  took  place 
from  the  moment  that  Alieyn  entered  the 
sick-room  until  he  left  it,  but  her  story  coin 
cided  precisely  with  what  she  had  already 
stated,  and  disclosed  no  inconsistencies.  Not 
once  did  she  lose  her  head  or  appear  flurried, 
but  that  she  was  laboring  under  deep  excite 
ment  was  evident  to  those  who  watched  the 
pallor  of  her  face  change  gradually  to  rose  as 
she  parried  thrust  after  thrust  of  the  skilful 
lawyer.  But  who  would  not  betray  agita 
tion  under  a  similar  ordeal  ?  The  fact  that 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  91 

she  did  so  could  not  fairly  be  a  cause  for 
suspicion  ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  her  dis 
tress,  especially  as  her  comeliness  was  en 
hanced  thereby,  could  not  fail  to  work  upon 
the  minds  of  the  jury. 

Mr.  Davenant  purposely  prolonged  the  ex 
amination  until  the  noon  recess  so  that  he 
might  have  an  opportunity  to  go  on  with  it 
after  haying  had  an  interview  with  his  client. 
He  hurried  Alleyn  to  a  private  room  in  a 
hotel,  where  he  ordered  lunch. 

"  There  is  some  mystery  here  that  you  can 
clear  up,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  laying  his 
hand  on  Alleyn's  knee. 

"  The  woman  is  lying." 

"  Granted  ;  but  a  woman  does  not  lie  for 
nothing." 

"I  know  of  no  explanation,"  replied  Al 
leyn,  curtly. 

Mr.  Davenant  was  puzzled.  He  had  not 
seriously  supposed  that  his  client  would  be 
able  to  elucidate  the  case,  but  he  had  put  the 
question  to  him  in  desperation.  He  was 
now  forced  back  on  a  previous  presumption, 
that  she  was  lying  for  the  sake  of  the  Church. 
But  the  difficulty  was,  as  he  proceeded  to 
note  to  Alleyn,  that  the  Church  would  be  no 


92  AN  EYE  FOlt  AN  EYE 

better  off  if  the  will  were  upset.  The  noxt 
of  kin  would  be  entitled  to  the  money,  unless, 
indeed,  Roger  Harper  should  have  conceived 
the  idea  of  subsequently  setting  up  the  al 
leged  suppressed  will  from  the  lips  of  his 
lovely  witness.  But  such  a  scheme  was  a 
rash  hazard,  to  say  the  least,  involving  nice 
legal  difficulties.  Altogether,  it  was  the 
strangest  affair  with  which  he  had  ever  been 
connected. 

"  Is  there  nothing  you  think  of  which  I 
can  ask  her  that  will  help  us  ?  "  he  inquired 
almost  imploringly. 

"  Nothing.  It  is  simply  my  word  against 
hers.  Great  God!  Davenant,  this  means 
ruin  for  me !  "  Alleyn  rose  and  began  to  pace 
the  room  feverishly. 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that." 

"  Yes,  ruin  !  '  What  motive  had  she  for 
lying  ?  '  every  one  will  ask.  '  Alleyn  drew  the 
will  himself  in  his  own  favor  and  supposed 
the  nun  was  not  listening.  One  more  good 
man  gone  wrong  ; '  that's  what  the  world  will 
say." 

"  It  was  a  very  stupid  device,  then.  A 
clever  man  like  you  would  hardly  put  his 
head  into  such  a  noose." 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  93 

"  The  world  does  not  make  such  subtile 
distinctions.  Davenant,  have  I  deserved 
this  ?  It  is  horrible !  horrible  !  " 

Alleyn  fell  into  a  chair  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands.  It  occurred  to  his  friend, 
who  was  eating  raw  oysters  with  deliberation, 
whether  by  any  possibility  there  might  be 
truth  in  the  accusation  after  all.  The  sus 
picion  was  too  dreadful  to  entertain,  but  it 
haunted  him.  He  did  his  best  to  cheer  Al- 
leyii,  begging  him  to  remember  that  the  fight 
was  only  half  over  and  that  it  behooved  him 
to  keep  up  his  courage  to  the  end ;  very 
likely  the  jury  would  disagree,  and  before 
the  case  could  be  tried  again  a  compromise 
might  be  arranged,  or  evidence  might  be 
forthcoming  regarding  Mother  Eulalie  that 
would  give  it  a  different  aspect. 

As  they  went  back,  the  newsboys  were 
calling  out,  "  Two  o'clock  edition ;  startling 
developments  in  the  Hogan  will  case,"  and 
Alleyn  read  in  large  letters  on  one  of  the 
bulletin  boards,  "A  serious  charge.  Testi 
mony  in  the  Hogan  will  case  affecting  the 
character  of  lawyer  Henry  Alleyn  of  this 
city.  He  is  accused  of  fraudulently  altering 
the  will  of  Margaret  Hogan  for  his  own  bene- 


94  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

fit."  He  quivered  in  every  vein  at  the  sounds 
and  sight.  The  news  had  travelled  fast,  for 
the  court-room  was  crowded.  There  were 
many  faces  he  recognized.  The  members  of 
the  Bar  had  been  drawn  thither  by  the  un 
usual  character  of  the  evidence,  and  all  eyes 
were  bent  on  him  curiously  as  he  walked  to 
his  seat,  doing  his  best  not  to  appear  discon 
certed. 

Mr.  Davenant  continued  his  cross-exami 
nation  for  another  half-hour,  inquiring  as  to 
the  witness's  past  life,  so  far  as  the  Judge 
would  allow  ;  but  he  elicited  nothing  of  mo 
ment. 

"  That  is  my  whole  case,"  said  his  oppo 
nent,  when  the  nun  had  left  the  stand. 

Alleyn  was  called  in  rebuttal.  His  direct 
testimony  took  the  remainder  of  the  day.  It 
was  clear  and  unequivocal.  He  repeated  the 
exact  conversation  that  had  taken  place  be 
tween  him  and  Margaret,  and  described  every 
circumstance  of  their  interview  with  great 
minuteness  under  the  searching  examination 
of  Mr.  Davenant.  His  manner  was  spiritless, 
however ;  he  seemed  dejected,  almost  broken, 
which  was  not  adapted  to  produce  a  favor 
able  impression  on  those  listening  to  him, 


AN  EYE   F011   AN  EYE  95 

On  the  following  morning  he  was  taken  in 
hand  by  Koger  Harper,  who  badgered  and 
finally  angered  him  by  the  style  of  his  cross- 
examination  ;  as,  for  instance,  by  jeering  at 
the  idea  that  he  had  not  been  aware  of  the 
amount  of  his  old  nurse's  property,  and  by 
insidiously  referring  to  his  approaching  mar 
riage  and  consequent  need  of  money.  Al- 
leyn  flushed  with  indignation  and  lost  his 
head.  His  answers  to  the  questions  put  to 
him  became  sarcastic  and  sophistical. 

After  he  had  been  dismissed  there  was  no 
more  evidence  to  offer,  and  Roger  Harper 
began  his  closing  address  to  the  jury,  in  the 
presence  of  a  densely  packed  court-room. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  in  the  course  of  his 
argument,  "my  learned  brother  who  is  to 
follow  me  in  the  presentation  of  this  case  will 
undoubtedly  ask  you  if  it  could  be  that  a 
young  man  of  hitherto  spotless  reputation, 
with  a  brilliant  future  in  prospect  and  with 
everything  to  lose  in  the  event  of  his  being 
detected,  would  be  stupid  enough — would  be 
wilfully  blind  enough,  to  fraudulently  alter  a 
last  will  and  testament  in  the  manner  which 
has  been  described  to  you  by  my  witness — 
would  be  blind  enough,  I  repeat,  to  do  this 


96  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

in  the  presence  of  a  third  person  within  easy 
ear-shot  of  whom  he  was  obliged  to  read 
aloud  the  contents  of  an  instrument  different 
from  that  which  he  now  offers  for  probate  ? 
Why  did  he  not  send  the  witness  out  of  the 
room,  my  brother  will  ask  ?  "Why  did  he  not 
adopt  one  of  a  thousand  artifices  that  could 
have  been  thought  of  to  screen  himself  from 
exposure  ?  The  element  of  extreme  improb 
ability  is  so  prominent,  that  one  is  prompted 
to  cry  out,  *  Such  a  thing  would  be  impossi 
ble.'  So  it  seems,  certainly,  when  you  con 
sider  the  facts  thus  barely  stated.  But, 
gentlemen  of  the  jury,  let  me  ask  you  this : 
Which  is  the  more  improbable,  that  this 
young  man  would  have  acted  in  the  manner 
indicated,  or  that  a  woman — she  whose  tes 
timony  you  have  listened  to — would  deliber 
ately  commit  perjury  to  ruin  forever  one 
whom  she  never  saw  or  heard  of?  There 
can  be  but  one  answer  to  my  question.  You 
must  decide  in  her  favor,  unless  you  can  per 
ceive  some  motive  why  she  should  offer  false 
testimony  —  she,  a  priestess  of  God,  and 
given  up  to  the  thoughts  and  offices  of  relig 
ion.  Where  is  the  motive  ?  Her  statement 
that  they  had  never  met  before  is  not  denied. 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  97 

How  could  she  be  benefited  by  swearing 
falsely?  If  this  will  falls  to  the  ground,  the 
next  of  kin  and  not  the  churches  will  get  the 
money.  Remember  that,  gentlemen  of  the 
jury.  Remember,  too,  that  this  young  man, 
this  rising  young  attorney,  was  shortly  to 
have  been  married  ;  and  you  can  all  imagine, 
in  view  of  so  interesting  a  circumstance,  that 
thirty  thousand  dollars  would  have  been  a 
most  welcome  addition  to  his  resources. 
Gentlemen,  I  repeat  it,  where  is  the  mo 
tive  ?  " 

Roger  Harper  spoke  but  half  an  hour.  Mr. 
Davenant  then  rose.  Although  he  had  been 
forestalled  in  his  argument  of  want  of  proba 
bility,  he  pressed  it  cogently,  dwelling  on  the 
good  repute  of  Alleyn  and  the  terrible  conse 
quences  of  an  ill-considered  verdict  as  affect 
ing  his  client's  future  career.  It  was  true,  he 
said,  that  there  seemed  a  lack  of  motive  on 
the  part  of  the  Mother  Superior,  but  even  if 
it  be  admitted  that  there  could  have  been  no 
adequate  reason  why  she  should  swear  falsely, 
was  it  not  much  more  rational  to  suppose 
that  she  had  been  mistaken  in  what  she 
heard,  than  that  this  lawyer  of  well-known 
integrity  had  committed  so  heinous  a  fault  ? 
7 


98  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

Her  testimony  was  that  she  had  heard  the 
old  woman  give  him  certain  directions  which 
were  carried  out  in  the  will  which  he  read. 
Therefore  he  must  have  deliberately  falsified 
the  instrument  while  drawing  it.  The  alter 
ation  must,  of  course,  have  been  made  on 
the  spot,  for  there  was  not  an  erasure.  Such 
a  cold-blooded,  deliberate  piece  of  villany 
was  out  of  the  question. 

Mr.  Davenant's  harangue  was  able  and  to 
the  point,  but  somehow  it  lacked  fervor,  as 
though  the  advocate  were  unable  to  explain 
to  himself,  satisfactorily,  the  discrepancy  in 
the  evidence.  Moreover,  Alleyn's  attitude 
during  its  delivery  was  scarcely  adapted  to 
encourage  his  counsel.  He  sat  looking 
gloomy  and  downcast,  with  the  demeanor  of 
one  who  expects  the  worst. 

The  Judge's  charge  was  short  and  impar 
tial.  He  adverted  to  the  fact  that  the  accu 
sation  made  was  of  a  most  serious  character, 
involving  the  good  repute  of  the  plaintiff,  and 
that  the  jury  ought  to  weigh  the  evidence  of 
fered  on  both  sides  with  the  greatest  deliber 
ation  ;  but  that  while  so  doing  they  must  not 
allow  themselves  to  be  influenced  by  emo 
tional  considerations  of  any  kind.  The  opes- 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  99 

tions  for  them  to  decide  were  simply  these, 
he  said : 

1.  Was  the  testatrix  of  sound  mind  when 
she  executed  the  will  ? 

2.  Was  the  testatrix  acting  under  the  un 
due  influence  of  Henry  Alleyn  at  the  time  of 
executing  said  will  ? 

3.  Was  the  instrument  offered  for  probate 
executed  as  the  last   will  and  testament  of 
Margaret  Hogan  ? 

As  regards  the  first  two,  there  could  be  no 
doubt  as  to  what  their  verdict  must  be,  for 
no  evidence  had  been  offered  by  the  appel 
lants  either  of  lack  of  mental  capacity  or  of 
undue  influence.  The  whole  contest  was  re 
garding  the  third  reason,  and  as  to  this  there 
was  nothing  he  could  say  that  would  help 
them.  The  burden  of  proof  was  on  those 
offering  the  will  for  probate,  to  show  by  a 
preponderance  of  the  evidence  that  it  had 
been  duly  executed  ;  but  the  term  preponder 
ance  of  evidence  did  not  necessarily  mean 
numerical  preponderance  ;  the  quality  rather 
than  the  quantity  should  be  taken  into  con 
sideration.  They  had  listened  to  the  testi 
mony  and  must  make  up  their  minds  as  to 
whom  to  believe,  taking  into  due  account  the 


100  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

liability  of  human  beings  to  error  as  to  what 
is  seen  and  heard. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  jury 
retired,  so  that  no  verdict  could  be  rendered 
until  the  next  day.  Alleyn  thanked  Mr. 
Davenant  in  a  perfunctory,  dazed  sort  of 
manner  for  his  services  and  left  the  court. 

"What  do  you  make  of  the  case.  Dave 
nant?"  asked  a  white-haired  member  of  the 
Bar,  drawing  him  aside.  "It  seems  to  me 
very  extraordinary." 

"Frankly,  sir,  I  don't  know  what  to  make 
of  it.  It  is  the  most  inexplicable  affair 
which  I  have  ever  had  to  deal  with.  I'm  all 
at  sea." 

The  intervening  hours  were  terrible  for 
Alleyn.  He  could  not  sleep.  The  newspa 
pers  had  enormous  head-lines  and  full  de 
tails  relating  to  the  trial,  set  off  by  pen  por 
traits  of  the  principal  personages  implicated. 
The  city  was  all  agog  with  the  excruciating 
scandal,  and  the  court-room  on  the  following 
morning  was  packed  to  overflowing.  It  had 
been  whispered  abroad  that  the  jury  had 
agreed  and  would  be  in  their  places. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,"  said  the  Clerk, 
"do  you  find  that  Margaret  Hogan  at  the 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  101 

time  she  executed  the  instrument  alleged  to 
be  her  last  will  and  testament  was  of  sound 
mind  ?  " 

"  To  that  interrogatory,  the  jury's  answer 
is  '  Yes,'  "  said  the  foreman. 

"  Do  you  find  that  Margaret  Hogan  at  the 
time  she  executed  said  instrument  was  acting 
under  undue  influence  ?  " 

"To  that  interrogatory  the  jury's  answer 
is4  No.'" 

"Do  you  find  that  said  instrument  was 
duly  executed  by  said  Margaret  Hogan  as 
her  last  will  and  testament  ?  " 

"  To  that  interrogatory  the  jury's  answer 
is  'No,'  for  the  reason  that  said  instrument 
was  fraudulently  altered  by  Henry  Alleyn, 
the  Executor  named  therein." 

From  that  verdict  there  was  no  appeal. 


Ill 

ONE  evening  about  five  years  later,  Charles 
Davenant  was  standing  in  his  drawing-room 
with  his  back  to  the  fire,  awaiting  the  arrival 
of  some  friends  whom  he  had  asked  to  din 
ner.  Time  had  given  him  the  portly  appear- 


102  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

ance  which  befits  the  successful,  well-to-do 
lawyer.  He  was  to-day  one  of  the  recog 
nized  leaders  of  the  Bar,  the  counsel  for  rich 
corporations  and  trustee  of  large  estates. 
The  guests  expected  by  him  were  the  mem 
bers  of  a  locally  celebrated  law  club  to  which 
he  belonged. 

The  first  to  appear  was  the  white-haired 
Nestor  who  had  questioned  him  at  the  con 
clusion  of  the  Hogan  will  case.  He  was  still 
hale,  but  betrayed  by  a  hesitating  gait,  as  he 
came  into  the  room,  the  limitations  of  four 
score. 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Perkins,  you  as  ever 
lead  all,  I  see,"  said  his  host  advancing  to 
greet  the  veteran.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
you,  Harper,"  Mr.  Davenant  added  to  another 
guest  who  followed  close  behind.  "  I  do 
not  need  to  introduce  you  two,  gentlemen." 

"  He  must  have  a  long  spoon  who  would 
eat  with  the  devil,"  observed  John  Larkin  to 
an  associate  with  whom  he  had  just  reached 
the  landing  as  they  caught  sight  of  the 
somewhat  anomalous  tableau  presented  by 
the  conversative  Mr.  Perkins  and  Roger  K. 
Harper  cordially  shaking  hands. 

"  Nothing  succeeds  like  success,"  was  the 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  103 

answer,  and  a  moment  later  both  the  speaker 
and  his  sardonically  inclined  companion 
were  imitating  the  example  set  them  by  their 
distinguished  senior. 

Roger  K.  Harper  was  the  only  one  of  the 
fifteen  lawyers  composing  Mr.  Davenant's 
dinner  company  who  was  not  a  member  of 
the  club,  and,  as  the  guests  arrived,  others, 
doubtless,  wondered  a  little  why  it  had  oc 
curred  to  their  host  to  invite  him.  But 
however  fastidious  they  could  afford  to  be  at 
heart,  no  one  saw  fit  to  be  otherwise  than 
cordial  to  the  formidable  advocate  whose 
long  list  of  victories  before  a  jury  had  Avon 
for  him  a  vast  clientage.  His  contempora 
ries  dated  the  real  founding  of  his  fortunes 
from  the  now  famous  probate  appeal  which 
had  wrought  the  ruin  of  Henry  Alleyn.  He 
had  been  successful  before,  but  the  verdict 
in  that  cause  had  placed  him  upon  a  pin 
nacle  from  which  neither  justice  nor  envy 
could  dislodge  him. 

After  the  party  was  seated  at  table  the 
conversation  became  almost  immediately  ani 
mated  and  brilliant.  There  was  everything 
to  inspire  wit  and  anecdote ;  the  surround 
ings  were  artistic  yet  cosey,  the  service  ex- 


104  AN  ETE  FOR  AN  EYE 

emplary,  the  viands  delicious.  The  first 
glass  of  wine  was  an  assurance  that  their 
host  had  not  spared  his  cellar.  Each  bit  of 
humor,  each  graphic  experience  reminded 
some  one  of  another,  and  so  the  ball  was 
kept  rolling.  Mr.  Davenant  himself  seemed 
in  the  best  of  spirits.  On  his  right  sat 
Roger  Harper,  and  on  his  left,  as  it  hap 
pened,  the  Justice  who  had  presided  at  the 
well-known  trial.  At  the  opposite  end  of 
the  table  John  Larkin  officiated.  He  was  in 
active  practice  now,  and  doing  extremely 
well.  To  him  had  fallen  the  task  of  winding 
up  his  former  patron's  affairs,  and  he  had 
managed  to  retain  as  clients  a  majority  of 
those  accustomed  to  do  business  with  Alleyn. 
Although  the  proximity  at  table  of  three 
of  the  chief  actors  in  the  still  remembered 
drama  must  have  struck  as  an  odd  coinci 
dence  most  of  those  present,  every  one  to 
whom  the  idea  of  calling  attention  to  it  oc 
curred  was  restrained  by  the  peculiar  nature 
of  the  case,  the  mystery  surrounding  which 
had  never  been  cleared  away.  Within  a  fort 
night  after  the  verdict  Henry  Alleyn  had  left 
town,  without,  so  far  as  was  known,  making 
any  effort  to  re-establish  his  damaged  reputa- 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  105 

tion,  and  since  then  nothing  had  been  heard 
of  him  beyond  the  vague  report  that  he  was 
living  in  Europe.  There  had  been  at  the  time 
some  talk  of  having  him  disbarred,  but  the 
fact  that  this  suggestion  had  never  taken  the 
form  of  a  petition  for  the  purpose  to  the 
Court  was  evidence  that  the  lawyers  in  the 
community  were  not  fully  satisfied  that 
Mother  Eulalie's  testimony  was  unimpeach 
able.  What  had  added  to  their  reluctance  to 
take  final  action  was,  doubtless,  an  item 
which  had  appeared  in  the  newspapers  not 
more  than  a  month  after  the  trial,  to  the 
effect  that  the  Mother  Superior  had  resigned 
her  position  at  the  Sisterhood  of  St.  Vincent 
de  Paul  and  had  also  left  the  city.  Nervous 
exhaustion  resulting  from  the  painful  ordeal 
which  she  had  undergone  was  popularly 
ascribed  as  the  cause,  but  all  the  same  there 
were  those  among  the  members  of  the  Bar 
who  shrugged  their  shoulders  as  they  read 
the  paragraph. 

After  some  remarkably  fine  Burgundy  had 
been  served  and  the  cigars  were  lighted  a 
hush  fell  upon  the  company  as  each  one 
settled  himself  luxuriously  in  his  chair, 
rather  disposed  in  the  fulness  of  his  content 


106  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

to  listen  to  the  wit  of  others,  than  to  make 
fresh  sallies  of  his  own.  The  pause  thus 
afforded  was  broken  by  the  Judge,  who  ob 
served,  in  somewhat  a  judicial  tone,  "A  won 
derful  glass  of  wine." 

"Wonderful,"  some  one  repeated  in  echo 
of  this  voice  of  authority. 

"  It  is  some  which  poor  Henry  Alleyn  sent 
me  only  a  few  weeks  before  his  misfortune," 
said  Mr.  Davenant. 

"Indeed,"  said  his  Honor,  "indeed;  I 
applaud  his  taste.  A  very  remarkable  case, 
that,"  he  added,  reflectively.  "  I  haven't  to 
this  day  been  satisfied  in  my  own  mind  as  to 
which  of  them  spoke  the  truth.  Eh,  brother 
Harper?" 

Deep  silence  followed  this  appeal  and  all 
eyes  were  bent  eagerly  on  the  eloquent  advo 
cate,  who  pursed  his  lips  and  puffed  at  his 
cigar  a  moment  before  replying  —  a  manner 
ism,  and  one  apt  to  be  imitated  by  those  who 
reasonably  expect  their  words  to  be  counted 
on  to  be  weighty,  but  in  this  particular  in 
stance  effective. 

4 'Your  Honor,  it  is  my  belief  that  the 
woman  was  lying,"  he  said,  laconically. 

Every  one  waited  for  him  to  go  on. 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  107 

"But,  on  the  other  hand,"  he  continued 
slowly,  "  I  have  no  more  real  knowledge  on 
the  subject  than  any  one  of  you.  She  caine 
to  me  with  the  story  exactly  as  you  heard  it 
at  the  trial.  She  was  already  aware  that  the 
Church  could  not  take  the  money,  and  when 
I  asked  her  if  she  had  any  acquaintance  with 
Alleyn,  her  answer  was,  as  subsequently,  '  I 
have  never  seen  or  heard  of  him  in  my  life.* 
It  is  my  private  belief  that  this  last  state 
ment  was  false.  If  so,  the  whole  was  false. 
But  I  have  not  a  shred  of  evidence  to  offer 
in  support  of  my  assertion.  It  is  mere  con* 
jecture." 

"What  has  become  of  Alleyn? "  asked  one 
of  the  company  presently. 

"  At  last  accounts  he  was  in  Paris — a  wan 
derer  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,"  responded 
John  Larkin. 

"He  is  dead,"  quietly  interjected  Mr. 
Davenant. 

"Dead?  You  don't  say  so!"  exclaimed 
several. 

"Yes,  he  was  mortally  wounded  in  August 
last,  fighting  on  the  Prussian  side  against 
the  French.  I  have  here  a  communication 
received  ten  days  ago  from  the  German  in 


108  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

command  of  his  regiment,  which  I  will  read 
you  presently.  But  first  let  me  throw  some 
light  on  the  matter  of  which  you  were  just 
speaking.  On  the  day  before  Alleyn  went 
away,"  continued  Mr.  Davenant,  producing  a 
packet  which  he  laid  upon  the  table,  "he 
came  to  see  me.  I  had  tried  in  vain  num 
berless  times  already  to  induce  him  to  admit 
that  there  was  a  mystery,  but  he  had  always 
shaken  his  head  and  declared  that  he  had 
nothing  to  say.  I  saw  from  his  face  that  it 
would  be  useless  to  ask  questions,  but  I 
could  not  help  exclaiming :  '  Alleyn,  you  are 
going  abroad  forever,  you  say;  do  not,  for 
God's  sake,  let  this  horrible  accusation  stain 
men's  memory  of  you  if  it  is  possible  for  you 
to  clear  it  away.'  He  looked  me  in  the  eyes 
—I  shall  remember  the  sadness  of  his  ex 
pression  so  long  as  I  live — and  shook  his 
head.  'Davenant,'  he  said,  'whatever  it  is 
desirable  to  have  explained  will  be  explained 
some  day.  Good-by.'  He  kept  his  word. 
The  Prussian  officer's  letter  contained  an 
other,  sealed  and  addressed  to  me  and  super 
scribed,  *  To  be  delivered  only  in  case  of  my 
death.'  It  contains  the  clew  to  the  mystery, 
at  least  the  only  clew  I  have,"  he  added, 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  109 

opening  the  packet.  "  Listen.  This  is  dated 
a  week  after  the  trial.  *  Henry,  your  life  is 
mined  forever,  and  I  have  done  it.  Do  you 
know  why?  Do  you  remember  what  you 
wrote  me  thirteen  years  ago?  "God  knows 
I  love  you,  darling,  but  what  is  this  all  to 
lead  to?  You  must  realize  that  I  cannot 
marry  you.  I  have  my  way  to  make  in  the 
world."  That  was  all,  and  you  were  free — 
free  to  hold  your  head  erect  and  live  re 
spected  and  happy.  How  did  it  fare  with 
me?  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,  Henry? 
As  with  so  many  others,  the  world  spat  upon 
me.  I  became  a  vile,  shameless  thing — such 
as  you  are  now.  I  could  not  hold  up  my 
head.  What  had  I  done  more  than  you? 
Why  should  I  be  the  only  one  to  suffer? 
They  called  me  a  dishonest  woman.  I  be 
gan  to  ask  myself  what  is  a  dishonest  man  ? 
You  know  the  feelings  of  one  now,  and  you 
know  how  I  felt.  You  are  suffering  as  I  was 
made  to  suffer.  You  need  not  blame  me, 
Henry.  Blame  the  world. 

"  '  COKA.'  " 

"  Mother  Eulalie ! " 
"Is  it  possible?" 
"Horrible!" 


110  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

Such  was  the  variety  of  ejaculations  uttered 
around  the  table  when  Mr.  Davenant  finished. 

"  I  see — I  see,"  murmured  Koger  Harper 
in  a  hoarse  whisper  at  their  close.  "  Mar 
vellous — marvellous." 

The  jury  advocate's  face  was  luminous. 
The  cobwebs  of  mystification  had  been  swept 
away  in  an  instant  and  the  truth  lay  bare  be 
fore  him.  But  used  as  he  was  to  astounding 
revelations,  and  freely  as  he  had  predicated 
that  there  was  falsehood  here,  it  was  evident 
from  his  expression  that  he  was  moved  to 
wonder.  "  Allow  me,  Mr.  Davenant,"  he  said, 
"to  look  at  that  letter." 

He  scanned  it  admiringly,  while  the  com 
pany  eyed  him  in  silence.  "  I  can  see  it  all 
now.  Marvellous — marvellous !  "  he  reiter 
ated.  "  '  They  called  me  a  dishonest  woman. 
I  began  to  ask  myself  what  is  a  dishonest 
man?  You  know  the  feelings  of  one  now, 
and  you  know  how  I  felt.'  There  is  real 
tragedy  for  you,  gentlemen.  No  make-believe 
stage  business." 

"  It  was  revenge,  cruel,  relentless  re 
venge,"  said  Mr.  Perkins. 

"  Yes,  it  was  revenge,"  retorted  Roger 
Harper  slowly,  compressing  the  bowl  of  his 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  111 

Burgundy  glass  with  so  strenuous  a  grip  that 
it  might  well  have  been  crushed  to  fragments. 
"  Cruel,  relentless  revenge,  if  you  will.  But 
was  it  not  justice,  too?  Think  a  moment, 
gentlemen.  She  loved  him  and  he  left  her. 
"What  ways  does  the  world  provide  for  mak 
ing  man  share  in — for  making  man  even  un 
derstand  the  misery  which  an  erring  woman 
undergoes?  Why  should  she  be  the  only 
one  to  suffer  ?  She  asks  the  question.  Can 
you  answer  it?  " 

His  penetrating  gaze  swept  round  the  cir 
cle,  but  not  a  voice  replied  to  his  inquiry. 
The  lawyers  seemed  to  be  musing. 

"  An  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  a 
life  for  a  life,"  said  John  Larkin,  with  sen 
tentious  emphasis. 

"  Why  did  not  Alleyn  publish  that  letter 
to  the  world?  "  asked  some  one. 

"  For  the  same  reason  that  he  did  not  con 
tradict  Mother  Eulalie's  testimony  at  the  trial 
that  she  had  never  seen  or  heard  of  him 
before — a  guilty  conscience,"  responded  Rog 
er  Harper,  keenly.  "  She  knew  that  he  would 
not  contradict  her,  and  she  knew  that  he 
would  not  disclose  the  contents  of  that  letter 
so  long  as  he  lived.  There  was  woman's 


112  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

genius !  They  were  master-strokes,"  lie  add 
ed  with  professional  enthusiasm. 

"  It  is  a  strange,  sad  story,"  said  the  Judge, 
breaking  in  upon  another  silence.  "  Heinous 
as  was  the  woman's  crime,  I  cannot  help 
agreeing  with  my  brother  opposite  that  there 
was  a  certain  poetic  justice  in  the  conse 
quences.  While  the  code  of  society  contin 
ues  to  make  subtile  distinctions  between  al 
most  equally  guilty  parties,  one  can  scarcely 
be  surprised  that  those  who  suffer  under  its 
operation  should  sometimes  disregard  all  law 
in  their  efforts  to  obtain  justice.  As  one 
having  authority  I  am  shocked,  but  as  a  hu 
man  being  I  feel  reflective." 

"  There  is  force  undoubtedly  in  your  Hon 
or's  suggestion,"  said  Mr.  Perkins ;  "  but  ad 
mitting  the  justice  of  the  consequences  here, 
I  find  it  difficult  to  forget  that  if  humanity  is 
to  look  for  mercy  and  forgiveness  anywhere 
it  must  be  to  woman.  Could  this  Mother 
Eulalie  really  have  loved  Alleyn  and  have 
acted  as  she  did  ?  " 

"  One  moment,  Mr.  Perkins,  if  you  please," 
exclaimed  Davenant.  "I  should  have  read 
you  the  Prussian  commander's  letter.  This 
is  a  translated  copy. 


AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE  113 

" '  MB.  CHARLES  DAVENANT — 

"  '  SIB  :  It  has  become  my  melancholy  duty 
to  inform  you  that  Henry  Alleyn,  an  Ameri 
can,  serving  as  a  private  soldier  under  my 
command,  was  shot  through  the  lungs  at  the 
battle  of  Gravelotte,  and  died  from  the  effects 
of  his  wound  four  days  later.  He  had  on 
several  occasions  attracted  attention  by  his 
conspicuous  gallantry,  and  would,  but  for  his 
untimely  death,  have  received  the  promotion 
he  deserved.  At  his  own  request  his  body 
has  been  buried  in  German  soil.  He  desired 
that  I  should  inform  you  of  his  decease,  and 
forward  you  the  enclosed  packet.  He  was 
conscious  to  the  last,  and  was  tenderly  nursed 
by  a  very  handsome  lady,  also  an  American, 
in  the  garb  of  a  Sister  of  Charity,  whose 
name  I  have  been  unable  to  obtain,  and 
who  disappeared  on  the  day  after  he  was 
laid  to  rest.  Condoling  with  you  in  your 
bereavement,  I  remain,  with  high  respect  and 
esteem, 

"  '  Your  very  obedient  servant, 

"  '  KLEINMANN,  Colonel.' " 

"Your  doubt   is    answered,"   said   Roger 
Harper,  impressively,  to  Mr.  Perkins. 
8 


114  AN  EYE  FOR  AN  EYE 

The  old  man  bowed.  "  So  she  was  with 
him  at  the  last.  Poor  devil,"  he  said. 

"  To  which  of  them  do  you  refer,  sir  ?  "  in 
quired  John  Larkin. 

"  You  are  right,  young  man.  Poor  devils, 
then." 

"With  all  my  heart." 

There  was  another  hush.  The  lawyers 
were  musing  again. 

"  This  is  extraordinarily  fine  wine,  upon 
my  soul,  Davenant,"  said  his  Honor  at  length, 
as  the  outcome  of  his  cogitations. 


IN  FLY-TIME 


IN  FLY-TIME 

TOM  NICHOLS,  the  architect,  lay  back 
in  his  hammock  with  a  contented  air. 
He  was  comfortable,  and  an  opportunity  to 
vegetate  and  to  rest  his  weary  mind  and  body 
was  his  at  last.  On  the  1st  of  June  he  had 
informed  his  wife  that  unless  he  had  time  to 
think  he  could  not  possibly  hope  to  win  the 
award  in  the  coming  competition  for  the  Pub 
lic  Library  building  at  Foxburgh.  On  this 
Mrs.  Nichols  had  set  her  heart.  To  tell  the 
truth,  they  were  both  tired — tired  of  the  bus 
tle  and  rush  of  city  life,  from  the  rumble  of 
the  milkman's  cart  over  the  pavement  in  the 
early  morning  to  the  clang  of  the  fire-engine 
as  it  jangled  round  the  corner  at  dead  of 
night.  They  needed  rest — rest  from  calls 
and  newspapers  and  five-o'clock  teas  and 
telephones  and  stock  quotations  and  servants 
and  marriages  and  deaths  and  late  suppers 
and  small- talk.  And  they  had  found  it  at 


118  IN  FLY- TIME 

last,  here  on  this  abandoned  farm,  a  good 
twenty  miles  from  the  meretricious  excite 
ment  and  vitiated  atmosphere  of  town. 

It  was  the  Fourth  of  July,  and  yet  there 
was  scarcely  a  sound  to  be  heard.  The  very 
bees  neglected  to  hum.  The  children  were 
in  the  barn,  scraping  acquaintance  with  the 
live-stock  and.  tumbling  in  the  hay.  Their 
voices  sounded  pleasantly  remote.  Before 
leaving  town  Tom  had  made  a  bargain  with 
them.  On  the  understanding  that  they  would 
forego  fire-crackers  and  other  noisy  accom 
paniments  of  the  national  holiday,  he  had 
presented  them  with  four  rabbits.  Mrs. 
Nichols  was  upstairs  tending  the  new  baby, 
for  a  baby  has  to  be  looked  after  on  a  quiet 
abandoned  farm  as  carefully  as  elsewhere. 
But  Tom  himself  was  supremely  comfortable. 

He  had  swung  his  hammock  between  two 
apple-trees,  the  boughs  of  one  of  which 
shaded  his  head  from  the  sun.  He  could 
see  everything  which  went  on  about  the  house 
without  even  turning  his  head.  There  was 
absolutely  nothing  on  his  mind,  and  he  was 
free  to  let  that  important  mechanism  lie  fal 
low.  From  time  to  time  he  opened  his  eyes 
to  enjoy  the  charming  outlook.  The  old 


IN  FLY-TIME  119 

homestead,  the  main  portion  of  which  had 
been  built  prior  to  the  Eevolution,  stood 
picturesquely  dilapidated  and  awry  on  ground 
a  little  higher  than  the  rest  of  the  farm.  The 
rose,  honeysuckle,  and  other  vines  which 
blithely  ran  riot  over  the  front  seemed  all 
that  saved  it  from  collapse.  Yet  it  was  com 
fortable  enough  inside.  Tom  was  not  alto 
gether  sure  that  he  would  not  find  the  double 
bed  atrociously  hard  as  soon  as  the  glamour 
of  the  situation  had  faded  into  every-day 
reality,  but  there  was  no  denying  that  tho 
cream  was  so  thick  that  it  required  joggling 
before  it  would  pour,  and  that  the  hearth  pos 
sessed  all  the  capacity  for  blazing  logs  which 
a  hungry  city  imagination  associates  with  the 
rustic  fireside.  To  be  sure  it  was  now  the 
Fourth  of  July,  when  wood  fires  are  apt  to 
be  superfluous;  but  it  was  pleasant  to  feel 
that  there  was  one  to  light  if  you  wished  ; 
and  there  were  the  big  brass  andirons  and  the 
curious  old  bellows,  at  any  rate.  On  one 
side  of  the  house  stood  the  barn  and  the  out 
buildings,  tenanted  still  by  a  sow  with  young 
ones,  some  clucking  poultry,  and  a  solitary 
twenty-year-old  farm  horse,  which,  under  the 
guidance  of  Uncle  Reuben  CoiHn,  had  fetched 


120  IN  FLY -TIME 

Torn  and  his  family  from  the  station  the  clay 
before.  On  the  other  side  was  a  small  flower 
bed,  where  peonies  and  dahlias  and  mignonette 
and  scarlet-runners  and  other  country  flowers 
bloomed  in  sweet  profusion.  It  had  once 
been  a  large  garden,  but  since  the  death  of 
Farmer  Joseph  Coffin  ten  years  before  it  had 
gradually  dwindled  away,  and  in  the  field  be 
yond,  where  oats  and  barley  and  cauliflowers 
and  spinach  and  squashes  and  strawberries 
had  formerly  grown  to  proud  maturity,  there 
were  only  a  patch  of  corn  and  a  few  potato- 
plants  for  the  immediate  needs  of  the  widow 
Coffin  and  her  daughter  and  limping  Uncle 
Eeub. 

But  only  a  countryman's  eye  would  have 
noted  that  the  farm  was  out  at  elbows.  To 
Tom,  as  he  lay  in  his  hammock,  the  landscape 
seemed  a  paradise.  The  fields  rolled  away 
in  green  freshness,  with  here  and  there  a 
stretch  of  woodland,  to  a  horizon  of  stately 
hills,  and  on  every  side  'were  peace  and  still 
ness.  He  could  just  discern  the  silver  line  of  a 
stream  threading  its  way  through  the  distance. 
In  front  of  the  house  stood  a  genuine  moss- 
bound,  old-fashioned  well  with  buckets,  and 
by  the  barn  was  a  kennel,  in  front  of  which 


/JV  FLY-TIME  121 

Pop,  the  huge  mastiff,  stiff  with  age  and 
rheumatism,  lay  basking,  with  his  head  upon 
his  paws.  Tom  said  to  himself  that  he  had 
been  longing  in  his  inner  consciousness  for 
years  for  some  such  refuge  as  this,  and  ho 
had  now  merely  to  close  his  eyes  and  enjoy 
the  situation  to  his  heart's  content.  A  book 
— a  volume  of  poems — lay  on  his  lap,  but 
Tom  had  no  inclination  to  read.  He  would 
fain  bask  like  Pop,  and  think  in  a  lazy,  list 
less  fashion. 

What  a  blessing  it  was  to  be  in  the  coun 
try  on  this  day  of  all  others  !  No  fire-crack 
ers,  no  fish-horns,  no  torpedoes,  no  crowd  ! 
The  pensive  lowing  of  the  kine  and  the  cluck 
ing  of  an  agitated  hen  were  the  sole,  infre 
quent  invasions  of  the  summer  stillness.  It 
had  rained  on  July  1st,  arid  again  on  July 
2d,  and  the  aspect  of  the  skies  had  caused 
his  brow  to  pucker  on  the  morning  of  the 
third  day  ;  but  the  sun  had  asserted  his  maj 
esty  at  last  simultaneously  with  the  arrival 
of  the  express-cart  at  the  door.  And  here 
they  were. 

A  sound  of  a  closing  door  caused  Tom  to 
open  his  eyes  again.  The  disturber  was 
Uncle  Reuben  Coffin,  or  Uncle  Reub,  as 


122  IN  FLY- TIME 

everyone  called  him,  who  was  standing  on 
the  door-sill  in  his  Sunday  go-to-meeting 
trousers,  shirt,  necktie,  and  suspenders,  but 
without  a  coat.  The  old  man  was  lame. 
One  of  his  legs  was  shorter  than  the  other. 
He  walked  by  the  aid  of  a  stick,  and  his  gait 
was  a  jerky  hobble.  He  cast  a  furtive  glance 
in  Tom's  direction,  and  began  to  work  toward 
him.  Uncle  Eeub  was  the  man  of  the  house. 
He  was  a  half-brother  of  Joseph  Coffin,  and 
had  lived  with  the  widow  and  her  daughter 
Maretta  ever  since  his  brother's  death.  Both 
Reuben  and  Joseph  were  veterans  of  the  civil 
war,  and  both  had  come  out  of  it  without  a 
scratch.  Joseph  had  succumbed  to  liver- 
complaint  ten  years  ago,  but  Reuben's  in 
jury  dated  back  to  the  year  immediately  fol 
lowing  that  in  which  he  had  left  the  service. 
He  had  fallen  from  the  hay-loft  in  the  barn 
and  fractured  his  leg.  Last  evening  he  had 
more  than  satisfied  Tom's  curiosity  regard 
ing  him  by  a  detailed  account  of  the  accident, 
which  in  Uncle  Reuben's  estimation  fur 
nished  ample  grounds  for  a  government  pen 
sion.  As  he  explained  to  Tom,  it  grew  out 
of  the  war.  If  he  had  not  enlisted  he  would 
never  have  remained  on  the  farm,  for  his 


72V  FLY-TIME  123 

tastes  as  a  lad  had  been  roving,  and  his  eyes 
had  been  fixed  on  the  far  West  when  Fort 
Sumter  fell.  Oh  yes,  it  grew  straight  out  of 
the  war,  and  if  ever  a  man  was  entitled  to  a 
pension  it  was  he.  He  had  petitioned  Con 
gress  in  vain  until  now,  but  this  new  bill 
would  settle  matters,  and  he  hoped  to  have 
his  papers  signed  before  the  maple-leaves 
turned. 

Although  Uncle  Eeub  had  satisfied  Tom's 
curiosity,  Tom  still  remained  a  mystery  to 
him.  The  old  man's  furtive  glance  seemed 
to  express  wonder  why  a  young  man  who 
had  the  chance  to  hear  fire-crackers,  and  see 
the  balloon  and  the  military,  should  prefer  to 
lie  in  a  hammock  with  his  eyes  shut  on  the 
Fourth  of  July.  Shyness  had  restrained  his 
tongue  last  evening  from  asking  questions  of 
the  new  boarders,  but  here  was  an  opportu 
nity  not  to  be  neglected.  First  he  hobbled 
over  to  the  open  barn,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  appearance  of  premeditation,  and  busied 
himself  for  a  few  moments  in  examining  once 
more  the  two  bicycles  belonging  to  Tom  aud 
his  wife  which  stood  just  inside.  Then  he 
made  for  Tom. 

Tom,  who  was  fully  aware  of  his  presence, 


124  IN  FLY- TIME 

was  tempted  to  simulate  slumber.  He  Lad 
no  wish  for  conversation ;  indeed,  he  yearned 
for  solitude.  But  city  people  have  the  habit 
of  politeness  even  toward  those  whom  they 
wish  to  avoid,  and  custom  was  too  much  for 
him.  He  sat  up  and  nodded  at  Uncle  Beub, 
who  stood  leaning  against  the  apple-tree 
toward  which  Tom  was  stretched. 

"  Suffering  from  lung  trouble,  ain't  yer  ?  " 
said  the  old  man,  tentatively. 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge." 

"  Sweat  much  nights  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  begun  to  yet." 

Uncle  Reuben  felt  of  his  chin,  and  pon 
dered.  "  I  had  a  cousin  jus'  your  build  who 
died  o'  consumption  two  years  back  come 
the  fifteenth  day  of  next  month.  He  sweat 
nights  dreadful.  The  doctors  said  it  warn't 
no  use  trying  to  do  for  him.  Yer  cough 
some,  don't  yer  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  I  never  had  a  cough  in  my 
life,  Mr.  CofSn,  and  my  lungs  were  examined 
for  life-insurance  six  months  ago,  and  pro 
nounced  perfectly  sound." 

"  I  want  to  know !  "  said  the  old  man,  who 
felt  in  no  wise  rebuffed  by  this  downright 
refutation  of  his  theory.  He  was  merely  do- 


IN  FLY- TIME  125 

ing  his  best  to  express  friendly  interest,  and 
to  become  better  acquainted.  "  Old  Billy 
has  gone  dead  laine  this  morning,"  he  con 
tinued,  by  way  of  a  second  attempt.  Old 
Billy  was  the  aged  farm  horse  of  the  family 
already  referred  to. 

"  I'm  afraid  that  bringing  us  from  the  sta 
tion  was  too  much  for  him,"  said  Tom.  "  I'm 
sorry  to  hear  it." 

"  I  expect  it's  rheumatism.  He's  liable  to 
spells  of  it.  But  it's  kind  of  provoking  for 
me  and  Maretta.  We'd  fixed  to  drive  over  Fox- 
burgh  way  to  see  the  celebration.  I  reckon 
now  a  bi-cy-cle  don't  go  lame  ?  "  he  added, 
with  a  facetious  glance  at  the  two  machines. 

If  there  was  a  theme  capable  of  arousing 
Tom  from  his  present  delicious  torpor,  Uncle 
Reuben  had  hit  upon  it.  Tom  was  just  be 
ginning  to  ride  a  bicycle.  Not  only  Torn, 
but  Mrs.  Nichols.  They  were  in  the  throes 
of  acquiring  facility,  and  delighted  with  their 
budding  talent.  A  strong  argument  in  favor 
of  retiring  to  the  country  had  been  the  ex 
pectation  of  being  able  to  practise  in  obscur 
ity,  and  witch  the  world  with  this  substitute 
for  noble  horsemanship  on  their  return  to 
town.  Tom  had  waked  up  one  morning  and 


12G  IN  FLY- TIME 

announced  that  he  was  going  to  buy  a  bicy 
cle,  and  a  fortnight  later  Mrs.  Nichols  had 
taken  the  bit  between  her  teeth  and  declared 
that  she  would  ride  too.  It  had  been  a  little 
difficult  for  Tom  to  get  rid  of  the  conviction 
which  he  had  acquired  by  personal  observa 
tion  that  pretty  women  do  not  ride  wheels, 
but  his  better  half's  reply  that  he  would  soon 
behold  one  was  extremely  pertinent.  "  It  is 
all  a  matter  of  clothes,  dear,"  she  had  ex 
plained  to  Tom.  "  Wait  until  you  see  me, 
and  I'm  sure  you'll  be  satisfied.  Besides, 
only  think  how  delightful  it  will  be  to  have 
me  with  you  on  your  rides,  instead  of  poking 
off  all  by  yourself."  The  event  had  justified 
her  statement.  They  both  were  still  at  the 
wobbly  stage  ;  but  there  was  no  doubt  in 
Tom's  mind  that  Mrs.  Nichols  on  a  bicycle 
was  fully  as  charming  as  Mrs.  Nichols  on 
foot.  And  when  a  husband  is  satisfied,  can 
not  a  woman  afford  to  smile  in  the  face  of  a 
critically  conservative  world  ? 

Consequently  Tom  raised  himself  a  little 
in  the  hammock  in  order  to  obtain  a  more 
complete  proud  glimpse  at  the  precious  ma 
chines,  and  his  expression  brightened  as  he 
answered : 


IN  FLY- TIME  127 

"  A  bic}Tcle  is  the  poor  man's  friend,  Mr. 
Coffin.  It  isn't  afraid  of  railroad  trains  or 
electric  cars  ;  and  if  it  goes  lame  it  doesn't 
eat  its  head  off  while  recovering." 

Mr.  Coffin  sighed.  It  might  be  that  he 
was  deploring  his  game-leg,  which  stood  in 
the  way  of  his  ever  mounting  a  wheel,  or  it 
might  be  that  he  was  reflecting  on  the  wide 
difference  just  pointed  out  by  Tom  between 
a  lame  horse  and  a  lame  bicycle  in  the  mat 
ter  of  feeding.  He  again  felt  of  his  chin 
meditatively. 

"  How  much  might  one  of  them  machines 
cost,  if  it  ain't  asking  too  much  ?  "  he  in 
quired. 

"  One  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  for 
the  best.  But  you  can  get  a  good  second 
hand  one  for  sixty  or  seventy-five." 

"  Most  as  much  as  for  a  fair  to  middhV 
horse." 

"  But  there's  no  expense  for  oats,  or  dis 
temper,  or  breakage,  no  veterinary  bills,  and 
no  cost  for  shoeing  and  sharpening.  Be 
sides,  bicycles  must  come  down  in  price,  Mr. 
Coffin.  It's  merely  a  question  of  time.  The 
American  people  intend  to  ride." 

Tom's  enthusiasm  so  far  got  the  better  of 


12S  IN  FLY-TIME 

him  that  he  grasped  the  sides  of  the  ham 
mock  and  sat  up  and  looked  at  his  tormentor ; 
then  suddenly  remembering  why  he  was  there, 
he  sank  back  emphatically,  and  closed  his 
eyes  again. 

A  countryman  is  slow  to  take  a  hint.  Be 
sides,  Tom's  momentary  flow  of  words  had 
been  reassuring.  Uncle  Keuben  waited  a 
moment,  then  he  said  : 

"  They're  cute  things,  sure.  Speakin'  now 
of  inventions,  what  might  be  yer  opinion 
about  these  'ere  rain-makers  ?  " 

Not  a  sound  came  from  the  hammock. 
Uncle  Keuben  waited  for  a  reasonable  time, 
but  he  did  not  seem  to  be  disturbed  by  his 
failure  to  obtain  an  answer.  He  varied  his 
posture  a  little  and  glanced  up  at  the  sky, 
shielding  his  eyes  with  his  hand. 

"  It's  great  weather  for  the  Fourth  of  July," 
he  remarked. 

This  was  the  sort  of  observation  which  did 
not  strictly  require  an  answer.  It  might  pass 
for  a  soliloquy.  A  man  might  make  it  and 
not  get  a  response  without  loss  of  self-re 
spect.  Not  even  a  murmur  came  from  the 
hammock.  Uncle  Reuben  cocked  an  eye 
again  skyward,  hitched  his  suspenders  into 


/2V  FLY-TIME 


place,  and  saying,  by  way  of  explanation,  "  I 
guess  I'll  go  and  fix  up  the  scarecrow,"  halted 
off  in  the  direction  of  the  corn-patch. 

As  may  have  been  manifested  by  his  burst 
of  declaration  regarding  the  American  peo 
ple,  Torn  was  at  heart  a  patriot  and  a  believer 
in  the  institutions  of  his  native  country.  Or 
dinarily  the  conventional  celebration  of  the 
Fourth  of  July  had  no  more  terrors  for  him 
than  for  the  average  adult  of  forty  in  his 
walk  of  life.  He  would  not  have  deemed  it 
proper  to  debar  his  children  from  fire-crack 
ers,  even  by  a  bribe,  if  he  had  not  felt  that 
rest  was  imperative  for  him  in  order  to  win 
the  Foxburgh  award.  Consequently,  although 
Uncle  Reuben  was  gone,  his  consciousness, 
or  rather  half-consciousness,  remained  under 
the  spell  of  their  conversation.  The  weather 
for  the  national  holiday  was  indeed  glorious, 
and  though  he  had  reason  to  rejoice  that  he 
was  removed  from  the  blaze  and  noise,  was 
it  not  an  inspiring  thought  that  in  every  city 
and  town  of  the  national  domain  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  an  orator  was  rehears 
ing  in  fervid  speech  the  national  glories  and 
the  national  hopes,  bands  of  music  were  play 
ing,  balloons  were  ascending,  and  the  great 
9 


130  IN  FLY- TIME 

American  people  was  letting  itself  go  ?  And 
only  think  how  many  bicycles  were  being 
ridden  within  the  same  ocean-bounded  terri 
tory  !  Surely  the  price  of  bicycles  must 
come  down.  Under  the  influence  of  these 
appropriate  sentiments  Tom  fell  asleep,  and 
the  farm  was  stiller  than  ever.  Pop  slum 
bered  in  his  kennel,  and  Uncle  Reuben  down 
in  the  corn-patch  sat  rigging  the  scarecrow, 
keeping  his  back  to  the  new  boarder  by  way, 
perhaps,  of  mild  resentment. 

The  next  thing  Tom  was  conscious  of  was 
a  sound  as  of  cows  cropping  grass  very 
close  to  his  ear.  He  struggled  against  the 
impression  until  it  changed  to  a  ripping 
sound,  and  at  the  same  moment  his  nose  was 
violently  tickled  by  something  hard,  a  pack 
age  smote  him  rudely  on  the  chest,  and  a 
voice  above  him  called,  "  Why  in  thunder 
don't  you  catch  hold,  you  infernal  idiot  ?  " 

To  be  called  an  idiot,  especially  on  the 
Fourth  of  July,  is  galling  to  a  free-born 
American  citizen.  Tom's  eyes  opened  simul 
taneously  with  the  upward  spring  he  made. 
But  he  was  fairly  electrified  by  what  he  saw. 
In  front  of  his  face  dangled  a  long  rope,  and 
overhead,  in  close  proximity  to  the  apple- 


IN  FLY-TIME  131 

tree,  was  a  huge  oscillating  mass.  What  could 
it  be  ?  What  did  it  mean  ?  Merciful  heav 
ens,  it  was  a  balloon — a  real,  active  balloon ! 
Even  a  patriot  can  be  rendered  incapable 
of  action  by  astonishment  and  the  complex 
ity  of  his  emotions.  Where  had  it  come 
from  ?  Was  it  coming  down  on  him  ?  What 
had  the  bale  of  cannon  crackers,  which  had 
nearly  broken  his  breast-bone,  to  do  with  it  ? 
What  did  the  two  men  in  the  swaying  car, 
ten  feet  above  the  apple-tree,  wish  him  to  do  ? 
There  was  quite  a  breeze  now, .  and  they 
were  bellowing  like  mad. 

"  Catch  hold  of  the  rope,  can't  you  ?  " 
Tom  glared  at  the  speaker,  nevertheless  he 
grabbed  at  the  rope.  He  was  out  of  the 
hammock  now.  He  missed  it,  for  it  was 
bobbing  just  above  his  head,  and  the  air 
around  him  seemed  to  be  raining  packages  of 
cannon  crackers,  rockets,  and  other  missiles 
of  the  fireworks  order.  Apparently  the  two 
occupants  of  the  balloon  were  acting  at 
counter  purpose,  for  one  was  throwing  out 
everything  he  could  lay  his  hands  on  to  make 
the  monster  rise,  whereas  the  other,  who  was 
peering  over  the  edge  of  the  car,  was  anxious 
that  Tom  should  grasp  the  rope  so  as  to 


132  /^  FLY-TIME 

make  her  fast  to  the  tree.  Tom  said  to  him 
self  that  it  must  be  the  balloon  from  Foxburgh 
which  had  been  sent  up  that  morning,  and  in 
obedience  to  orders  he  made  another  lunge 
at  the  rope.  This  time  he  caught  it,  and  he 
felt  as  if  he  had  seized  a  comet  by  the  tail, 
for  just  at  that  moment  a  puff  of  wind  struck 
the  "George  Washington "•  — he  could  see 
the  large  letters  of  her  name — and  she  rolled 
and  swayed  like  a  ship  in  a  heavy  sea,  then 
swooping  away  from  dangerous  proximity  to 
the  apple-tree,  began  to  career  in  a  level  line 
across  the  farm.  Both  the  occupants  now 
were  yelling  like  crazy  creatures,  but  their 
words  were  inaudible  to  Tom.  For  an  instant 
he  ran  like  a  deer-hound,  holding  fiercely  to 
the  rope ;  the  next  he  was  lifted  from  his 
feet,  and  hung  dangling,  with  his  toes  a  few 
inches  from  the  ground.  A  huge  portman 
teau  just  missed  him  and  burst  open  at  his 
feet,  and  two  bags  of  sand  fell  with  dull  thuds 
on  either  side. 

In  an  instant  the  abandoned  farm  awoke 
to  action.  The  mastiff  Pop  bounded  along  at 
Tom's  heels,  barking  wildly.  Tom's  four 
children,  lured  from  the  hay  by  the  hubbub, 
stood  open-mouthed,  paralyzed  at  the  sight 


IN  FLY-TIME  133 

of  their  father  being  dragged  along  by  this 
monster  of  the  air.  It  was  not  until  Mrs. 
Nichols,  with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  flew  from 
the  house,  crying  "  Tom  !  Tom  !  Tom  !  "  that 
they  added  their  shrill  voices  to  the  tumult, 
and  scurried  over  the  pasture  in  pursuit.  In 
their  wake  hobbled,  as  fast  as  he  was  able, 
Uncle  Reuben,  giving  vent  to  his  emotion  in 
a  frantic  "  Whoa,  there ! — whoa,  there  !— 
whoa,  there !  "  And  last,  but  not  least,  the 
widow  Coffin  and  Maretta  flitted  along  behind, 
screaming  like  two  agitated  geese,  their  necks 
extended,  and  their  white  aprons  fluttering 
in  the  breeze. 

Tom  does  not  know  to  the  present  day  ex 
actly  why  he  held  on  like  grim  death  ;  but  he 
did,  though  the  huge  balloon  rolled  and 
pitched  and  surged,  so  that  occasionally  he 
was  lifted  three  feet  from  the  ground,  and  it 
looked  as  if  he  would  be  carried  up  a  mile  or 
two  with  even  greater  promptitude  than 
Sindbad  the  Sailor  was  borne  away  by  the 
predatory  roc  in  the  "  Arabian  Nights' "  tale. 
And  all  the  time  it  was  raining,  not  cats  and 
dogs,  but  what  were  much  more  unwelcome 
to  Tom — bunches  of  fire-crackers  in  mad 
profusion,  as  though  fate  was  determined  to 


134:  IN"  FLY-TIME 

foist  the  Fourth  of  July  upon  him  in  spite  of 
everything.  He  could  not  see  very  distinctly, 
for  he  was  spinning  round  like  a  teetotum, 
so  that  he  got  only  what  might  be  called 
bird's-eye  glimpses.  He  did  discern  quite 
clearly  for  an  instant  his  better  half  in  the 
van  of  his  pursuers,  waving  the  baby  in  her 
arms  in  wild  dismay,  and  he  made  one  last 
frantic  effort  to  pull  down  the  balloon  before 
letting  go.  Just  then  there  was  another  rip 
ping  sound,  which  resembled  the  bursting  of 
an  enormous  torpedo,  and  Tom  felt  his  feet 
touch  earth  again.  In  the  next  instant  he 
narrowly  dodged  a  collision  with  an  elm-tree, 
and  immediately  after  his  course  was  rudely 
stayed,  and  he  found  himself  being  wound 
round  and  round  the  venerable  trunk.  When 
he  came  to  a  halt  the  balloon  and  the  top  of 
the  elm-tree  seemed  to  have  amalgamated, 
and  the  voice  which  had  but  lately  dubbed 
him  an  infernal  idiot  now  shouted  from  a  stal 
wart  bough,  "You're  a  noble  fellow,  sir  —  a 
genuine  hero,  worthy  of  the  day  we  celebrate." 
Thereupon  the  speaker,  with  an  agile 
movement,  swung  himself  from  his  perch 
and  dropping  close  to  Tom,  threw  his  arms 
about  his  neck. 


IN  FLY-TIME  135 

"  Your  hand,  sir,  your  hand." 

Tom,  who  still  was  grasping  the  end  of  the 
rope,  which  was  wound  around  the  tree,  be 
ing  of  a  forgiving  disposition,  let  go,  and 
suffered  his  fingers  to  be  grasped  by  the  en 
thusiastic  stranger. 

"You're  a  hero,  sir.  The  country  shall 
know  of  this.  Permit  me  to  introduce  my 
self." 

The  young  man — he  was  a  thin,  nervous- 
looking,  snappy-eyed  individual  of  about 
thirty,  with  a  prominent  Eoman  nose — fum 
bled  in  his  vest  -  pocket  and  produced  a 
printed  card.  Tom  read  the  inscription  with 
a  feeling  akin  to  horror :  "  Irving  K.  Baker, 
Foxburgh  Mail  and  Gazette." 

"  The  most  enterprising  newspaper  in  the 
United  States.  Have  you  a  cabinet  photo 
graph  of  yourself,  sir,  on  the  premises  ?  " 

The  necessity  of  answering  this  question 
was  averted  for  the  moment  by  the  arrival,  in 
a  breathless  condition,  of  Mrs.  Nichols,  who 
threw  herself  and  the  baby  upon  Tom  in  one 
warm  indiscriminate  embrace. 

Mr.  Baker's  hat  was  off  in  an  instant,  and 
he  jumped  and  changed  feet.  "  Your  lady, 
sir?" 


136  IN  FLY-TIME 

"This  is  my  wife,  Mrs.  Thomas  Nichols. 
Elizabeth,  this  is  Mr. — er — Irving  K.  Baker, 
one  of  the  gentlemen  in  the  balloon." 

"  Charmed  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Mrs.  Nichols.  Allow  me,  madam,  to  con 
gratulate  you  on  the  noble  act  of  heroism  just 
performed  by  your  husband.  At  great  per 
sonal  risk  he  has  guided  the  course  of  the  ill- 
fated  '  George  Washington,'  which  rose  an 
hour  ago  in  Foxburgh  amid  the  shouts  of 
thousands  of  free-born  American  citizens,  so 
successfully  that  Professor  Stroufc  and  myself 
have  been  enabled  to  seek  refuge  in  the 
branches  of  this  noble  elm  at  a  moment  when 
instant  destruction  seemed  to  stare  us  both  in 
the  face." 

"Where  is  Professor  Strout?"  inquired 
Elizabeth,  who  was  of  a  practical  turn  of 
mind  nothwithstanding  her  extreme  devotion 
to  her  husband.  As  for  Tom,  his  attention 
had  been  momentarily  diverted  by  the  sight 
of  his  children,  all  of  whom,  after  realizing 
that  the  race  was  over,  had  stopped  to  gather 
up  the  fireworks  which  Mr.  Irving  Baker  had 
let  fall,  and  were  now  moving  swiftly  toward 
him  with  laden  pockets  and  arms. 

"  I  am  safe,  madam,  and  will  be  down  in  a 


IN  FLY-TIME  137 

moment,"  said  the  professor,  answering  for 
himself  from  the  summit  of  the  tree.  Tom 
and  his  wife,  gazing  eagerly  through  the 
foliage,  beheld  a  pleasant-looking  man,  of 
about  the  same  age  as  Mr.  Baker,  absorbed  in 
grappling  with  the  remains  of  the  collapsed 
air-monster. 

"  One  of  the  most  celebrated  aeronauts  in 
the  country,"  explained  the  reporter.  "This 
is  his  twenty-sixth  voyage,  and  he  has  never 
broken  a  limb." 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  the  balloon  ?  " 
inquired  Mrs.  Nichols. 

"  She  burst,  madam,  in  mid-air,  not  once, 
but  twice,  and,  had  our  course  not  been 
providentially  guided  by  your  husband,  the 
probabilities  are  that  we  should  now  be  lying 
inanimate  within  a  short  distance  from  this 
spot.  Where  are  we,  by-the-way  ?  " 

"  You're  on  the  widow  Coffin's  farm,"  said 
Uncle  Reuben,  who,  in  company  with  the 
two  females  of  his  family,  had  just  hobbled 
up  in  time  to  answer  this  inquiry. 

"  I  expect  we'll  be  able  to  take  our  Fourth 
of  July  dinner  with  you,"  continued  Mr. 
Baker,  suavely,  addressing  Mrs.  Coffin,  with 
a  quick  perception  that  she  was  the  mistress 


138  IN  FLY-TIME 

of  the  situation.  He  glanced  at  the  same 
time  so  admiringly  at  Maretta  that  the 
country  lass  looked  up  and  then  down. 

"  How  many  be  you  ?  "  asked  the  widow. 

"  Two.     Professor  Strout  and  myself." 

"  There's  a  goose  and  apple  sass  and  a 
plum  pudding.  I  guess  you're  welcome,"  re 
plied  Mrs.  Coffin. 

"  Can  we  have  these,  sir?"  broke  in  Tom's 
eldest  boy  of  eleven,  indicating  the  spoils 
which  he  and  his  brothers  had  collected. 

"Bless  your  hearts,  yes.  We'll  let  the 
crackers  off  after  dinner,  and  in  the  evening 
we'll  have  a  genuine  Fourth  of  July  fireworks 
show,  with  rockets  and  booms  and  Catherine- 
wheels." 

"  Bully  for  you  !  "  cried  the  children  to 
gether,  and  Maretta  let  slip  a  gratified  "  Oh, 
my!" 

"  We  haven't  had  any  fire-crackers  to-day," 
said  the  eldest  boy. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Baker,  with  an 
astonished  and  suspicious  glance  at  Tom. 
"  Are  you  an  Englishman  ?  " 

"No,  sir.  It  was  an  accident.  They 
usually  have  plenty." 

"  My  advent,  then,  is   a  peculiarly  f  ortu- 


JJV  FLY-TIME  139 

nate    circumstance,"     answered    Irving     K. 
Baker. 

A  few  minutes  Inter  the  entire  party  was 
on  its  way  to  the  farm-house  in  the  gayest  of 
spirits.  That  is,  all  except  Tom.  He  lagged 
a  little  behind,  reflecting  that  his  day  was 
completely  spoiled,  and  that  even  on  an 
abandoned  farm  a  man  is  not  safe  from  the 
Fourth  of  July.  They  were  clearly  in 
for  a  noisy  time  ;  and  nobody,  not  even  his 
wife,  was  disposed  to  sympathize  with  him 
on  the  subject.  What  with  the  heroism  of 
her  husband,  and  the  escape  of  the  occupants 
of  the  balloon,  and  the  happiness  of  her 
children,  and  the  blithe  spirits  of  Mr.  Irving 
K.  Baker,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  pathetic 
tenor  voice  of  Professor  Alvin  Strout,  who 
had  come  down  from  the  tree-top  with  the 
remains  of  the  late  "  George  "Washington," 
trolling  plaintively  a  stanza  of  "  Oh,  why 
should  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud  ?  "  Mrs. 
Nichols  was  in  a  state  of  pleased  excitement. 
As  for  Maretta,  it  was  obvious  that  she  was 
at  loss  to  decide  whether  the  professor  was 
"  a  more  elegant  gentleman "  than  the  re 
porter,  or  vice  versa.  The  professor  was  in 
clined  to  be  stout,  and  he  had  a  wavy  dark- 


140  IN  FLY- TIME 

brown  mustache  and  curly  hair,  which  gave 
him  a  more  fetching  appearance  than  Mr. 
Baker,  who  was  lean  and  smooth-shaven. 
Maretta,  who  walked  in  front  with  the  re 
porter,  kept  casting  sheep's  eyes  over  her 
shoulder  at  the  professor,  by  way  of  holding 
them  both  in  tow.  The  professor  walked 
with  Mrs.  Nichols,  to  whom  he  related  his 
entire  personal  history  before  they  reached 
the  farm-house.  It  appeared  that  he  came 
of  a  family  of  balloonists.  His  father  and 
grandfather  had  each  been  noted  aeronauts, 
and  the  latter  had  been  drowned  in  the  Bay 
of  Biscay  after  an  explosion  very  similar  to 
that  which  had  worked  the  ruin  of  the  late 
"George  Washington."  The  professor,  not 
unnaturally,  was  a  little  lachrymose  over  the 
loss  of  his  balloon,  in  which  he  had  made  four 
successful  trips  already.  She  had  burst  the 
first  time  without  warning  just  over  the  spot 
where  Mr.  Nichols  had  been  slumbering; 
but,  though  Mr.  Baker  had  been  eager  to  de 
scend  at  this  juncture,  the  professor  himself 
had  done  his  best  to  continue  his  voyage 
until  the  second  catastrophe  had  proved  the 
futility  of  his  endeavor. 

"  But  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself 


IN  FLY-TIME  141 

with,"  he  concluded,  wiping  his  eyes.  "  Al 
though  I  am  accustomed  to  fall  on  my  feet, 
it  appears  that  I  have  been  more  than  usu 
ally  fortunate  on  this  occasion,"  he  added, 
with  a  gallant  bow. 

Mrs.  Nichols  had  it  on  the  tip  of  her 
tongue  to  remark  that  he  would  be  sure  to 
fall  on  his  head  some  day  instead  of  his  feet, 
but  she  reflected  that,  as  he  was  a  balloonist 
by  profession,  there  was  really  no  use  in 
pointing  out  its  dangers  at  a  time  when  he 
was  already  depressed.  They  had  now 
reached  the  house,  where  the  atmosphere 
was  rife  with  the  savor  of  roast  goose,  which 
so  far  restored  the  spirits  of  the  professor 
that  he  rubbed  his  hands  cheerily  together, 
and  presently  began  to  perform  some  acts  of 
legerdemain,  ostensibly  for  the  amusement 
of  the  children,  but  it  may  be  with  an  eye  to 
Maretta  also.  He  seized  two  of  the  new 
rabbits,  and  with  a  deft  movement  of  his  fin 
gers  rolled  them  into  one,  proceeded  to  swal 
low  the  compound  animal,  and  then  shook 
them  both  from  Mr.  Irving  Baker's  hat.  The 
children  shrieked  with  pleasure,  and  Maretta 
said,  "  Oh,  my !  ain't  he  cute  ?  "  so  many 
times  that  Mr.  Baker  felt  called  upon  to  play 


142  IN  FLY-TIME 

a  solo  on  a  jews-liarp  and  dance  a  jig  to 
avoid  sinking  into  obscurity. 

"  Tom,"  whispered  Mrs.  Nichols,  observing 
that  her  husband  had  retired  to  a  corner, 
where  he  was  sitting  in  glum  despair,  "  here 
is  an  occasion  for  the  display  of  moral  cour 
age  to  serve  as  a  pendant  to  your  physical 
bravery  of  the  morning.  Cheer  up.  He 
really  plays  uncommonly  well,  and  the  pro 
fessor  actually  made  my  heart  leap  into  my 
mouth  when  he  rolled  the  two  bunnies  into 
one." 

"  That  Baker  will  have  us  all  in  his  con 
founded  newspaper  to-morrow  morning.  I 
see  it  in  his  eye.  To  think,  Elizabeth,  of 
what  our  Fourth  of  July  was  intended  to  be, 
and  then  consider  what  it  is  !  I  almost  wish 
I  had  let  the  '  George  Washington ' — 

"  Dinner !  "  exclaimed  the  widow  Coffin, 
entering  from  the  kitchen,  and  cutting  short 
thereby  Tom's  dire  malediction. 

"  Be  brave,"  whispered  his  wife.  "  It  can 
not  last  long,  and  if  the  goose  only  holds  out 
we  shall  do  famously." 

A  phrase  of  tender  conjugal  appeal  is  often 
more  effective  than  a  page  of  Scripture. 

Tom   clinched  his   teeth   and   seized   the 


IN  FLY-TIME  U3 

carving-knife.     "  I  will  do  my  best,  dear," 
he  murmured. 

Tom's  best  was  very  good  indeed.  He 
carved  the  goose  with  consummate  skill,  so 
that  everyone  had  enough,  and  at  the  first 
mention  of  the  word  Fourth  of  July  he  rose 
from  the  table,  and  reappeared  with  sundry 
bottles  of  ale  from  his  private  stock,  in  which 
a  variety  of  toasts  appropriate  to  the  occa 
sion,  proposed  in  a  very  witty  fashion  by  Mr. 
Baker,  were  drunk.  Then  the  professor  sat 
down  at  the  piano  and  sang  "  The  Lost 
Chord,"  and  Mr.  Baker,  to  cap  the  climax, 
recited  Poe's  "  Eaven,"  without  the  slightest 
provocation  excepting  the  ale  in  question. 
Maretta,  who  waited  at  table,  and  who  had 
been  in  a  state  of  concentrated  giggle  over 
the  humorous  portion  of  the  programme,  was 
now  in  tears,  and  Uncle  Reuben  confided  to 
Tom  that  "  them  two  were  better'n  the  thea 
tre,  and,  barrin'  the  absence  of  wild  animals, 
most  as  good  as  a  circus."  The  professor,  to 
prove,  perhaps,  that  he  had  his  lighter  side 
in  song  as  well  as  real  life,  then  supplement 
ed  "  The  Lost  Chord  "  with  a  negro  ditty, 
which  captivated  everybody,  especially  Mrs. 
Coffin. 


144:  IN  FLY-TIME 

"  He's  just  real  comical,"  she  said,  in  a 
stage-whisper.  "  It's  too  bad/'  she  added  to 
the  company,  with  a  pathetic  air,  "  Maretta 
ain't  got  no  accomplishments." 

All  eyes  were  directed  toward  the  young 
woman  in  question,  who  flushed  becomingly, 
and  who,  as  so  many  young  women  in  her 
position  with  accomplishments  would  have 
done,  said  nothing  tart  to  her  mother  in  re 
ply.  She  merely  looked  down,  much  to  the 
disgust  both  of  the  professor  and  Mr.  Baker, 
whose  glances  plainly  declared  that  they 
were  prepared  to  think  none  the  less  of  her 
on  that  account.  She  was  really  a  very 
pretty  girl,  save  for  the  bang  which  disfig 
ured  her  comeliness,  and  she  had  taken  ad 
vantage  of  a  few  moments  which  had  inter 
vened  between  the  reporter's  performance  on 
the  jews-harp  and  dinner  to  put  on  a  pale 
blue  silk  frock. 

"  For  my  part,  Mrs.  Coffin,  I  think  that 
she  is  to  be  heartily  congratulated  because 
she  hasn't  any,"  said  Tom,  by  way  of  com 
mentary  on  the  widow's  grievance. 

This  was  the  only  speech  of  doubtful  pro 
priety  of  which  Tom  was  guilty,  and  its  ef 
fect  was  speedily  counteracted  by  the  cigars 


DINNER!" 


IN  FLY-TIME  145 

which  he  presented  at  this  juncture  to  the 
two  performers,  who  had  cast  suspicious 
looks  in  his  direction. 

"  You  are  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Baker,  with  affable  satisfaction  as 
he  accepted  the  proffered  Regalia  Britannica. 
"  If  your  young  Americans  would  like  to  fire 
off  those  cannon  crackers  I  am  entirely  at 
their  and  your  service." 

For  the  next  fifteen  minutes  the  abandoned 
farm  was  one  of  the  noisiest  spots  in  the  uni 
verse.  When  the  last  pop  had  been  uttered 
and  the  smoke  was  clearing  away,  Mr.  Irving- 
Baker  announced  that  he  would  devote  his 
energies  to  erecting  a  frame -work  for  the 
rockets  and  Catherine  -  wheels  to  be  dis 
charged  after  dark,  and  he  said  to  Professor 
Strout, 

"  I  will  match  you,  Alvin,  to  see  whether 
you  or  I  go  to  the  wood-pile  for  an  axe  and 
lumber." 

Thereupon  the  reporter  drew  from  his 
pocket  his  mascot,  an  old-fashioned  United 
States  cent,  which  he  flipped  into  the  air. 

"  If  you  are  to  match  me,  mine's  a  head," 
said  the  professor,  who  had  a  Mexican  dollar 
as  the  genius  of  his  fortunes. 
10 


146  IN  FLY-TIME 

"  I  have  done  it,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  triumph 
antly,  and  he  glanced  contentedly  in  the  di 
rection  of  Maretta.  There  was  a  correspond 
ing  look  of  depression  on  the  countenance  of 
the  baffled  magician  as,  accompanied  by  the 
children  and  Uncle  Reuben,  he  proceeded 
toward  the  barn.  Who  knows  but  he  was 
reflecting  that  a  stroke  of  legerdemain  would, 
under  the  circumstances,  have  been  wiser 
than  trusting  to  that  bawd,  Fortune  ? 

Seeing  Mr.  Baker  and  Maretta  compose 
themselves  on  the  door-step,  Mrs.  Nichols 
whispered  in  Tom's  ear  :  "  You  have  been  a 
hero  twice  to-day,  dear  boy.  Go  upstairs 
and  try  to  get  forty  winks.  I  am  certain 
that  every  fire-cracker  has  been  set  off,  and 
I  will  take  baby  to  the  barn." 

Tom  did  as  he  was  bid.  The  conscious 
ness  of  virtue  is  apt  to  be  its  own  reward. 
He  fell  asleep  almost  instantly,  and  his  slum 
ber  was  pleasantly  agitated  by  a  promising 
idea  for  the  library  at  Foxburgh.  He  had 
slept  just  ten  minutes  when  this  vision  was 
rudely  interrupted  by  a  hand  laid  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  Why  in  thunder —     "  he  began. 

"  Tom,  dear,  I'm  awfully  sorry,  but  I  had 


"MINE'S   A   HEAD,"    SAID   THE   PROFESSOR 


IN  FLY-TIME  147 

to  wake  you.  Professor  Strout  has  fallen 
from  the  loft  in  the  barn  and  broken  his  leg." 

Tom  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  eyes.  Even 
the  serious  nature  of  this  announcement  did 
not  restrain  him  from  exclaiming,  "  I  was 
just  getting  a  grand  idea  for  the  library,  and 
now  I've  lost  it.  Confound  the  professor 
and  the  Fourth  of  July !  What  did  you  say 
Elizabeth?  Broken  his  leg?  Poor  fellow! 
How  did  he  manage  to  do  that  ?  " 

"He  was  looking  for  a  suitable  piece  of 
wood  for  the  rocket-stand,  and  he  fell  over 
backward  at  almost  the  same  point  as  Uncle 
Reuben  Coffin  fell  years  ago." 

"  Now  that's  a  queer  coincidence,  isn't  it  ?  " 
said  Tom. 

"  Yes.  They  need  you  to  help  move  him 
to  the  house." 

"  To  think,"  said  Tom,  as  he  slipped  on 
his  coat,  "  that  a  man  should  drop  with  a 
balloon  and  get  off  scot-free,  and  within  two 
hours  break  his  leg  by  falling  from  an  every 
day  commonplace  barn  loft !  " 

"  Isn't  it  odd  ! "  But  Mrs.  Nichols  was 
more  interested  in  the  live  features  of  the 
case.  "  What  are  we  to  do,  Tom  ? "  she 
added  earnestly.  "The  nearest  doctor  is 


148  IN  FLY-TIME 

at  Middleborough,  which  is  ten  miles  from 
here.  The  horse  is  lame,  you  know." 

"So  he  is."  Tom  stopped  on  his  way 
downstairs.  "If  he  has  really  broken  his 
leg,  I  shall  go  for  the  doctor  on  my  wheel." 

"  Oh,  Tom,  you  haven't  had  experience 
enough.  You  would  never  get  there." 

"  I  shall  go.  We  can't  let  him  die  on  our 
hands."  There  was  a  sort  of  fierce  fervor  in 
his  tone. 

"  This  is  a  fine  outfit,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Baker,  who  met  them  at  the  barn  door.  "  A 
sad  ending  to  a  delightful  day." 

Tom  passed  in  and  found  a  dismal  little 
group  bending  over  the  prostrate  form  of  the 
unfortunate  balloonist,  who  was  lying  on  an 
improvised  hay  bed. 

"Papa,  papa,"  cried  the  children,  "the 
gentleman  who  swallowed  the  rabbits  has 
hurt  himself." 

"His  leg's  broke  and  the  bone's  protrudin'. 
He  struck  the  floor  three  inches  to  the 
south 'ard  of  where  I  fell  twenty  years  back," 
explained  Uncle  Reuben. 

"I  guess  it's  nothing  to  worry  over,"  said 
the  victim,  but  the  effort  of  turning  slightly 
to  look  at  Tom  distressed  him  so  greatly 


IN  FLY-TIME  149 

that  he  groaned.  "  Can't  walk  to  the  house, 
though." 

"  No ;  we're  going  to  carry  you,"  said  his 
friend.  "  You'll  feel  better  as  soon  as  we 
get  you  on  a  soft  bed."  He  murmured  to 
Tom,  "It's  a  pretty  poor  lookout  with  the 
doctor  ten  miles  off  and  the  farm-horse  lame." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Tom.  "  Do  you  ride  a 
bicycle?" 

"  Nop." 

Tom  said  nothing  further  at  the  moment, 
but,  after  they  had  deposited  the  professor 
on  Mrs.  Coffin's  bed,  he  leaned  over  him  and 
said  :  "  I'll  have  the  doctor  here  in  a  jiffy. 
I'm  going  for  him  on  my  wheel." 

"  Oh,  my ! "  said  Maretta. 

"  Tom,"  said  Mrs.  Nichols,  following  him 
to  the  door,  "  if  you're  going,  I'm  going  too." 

"  Nonsense,  dear." 

"  It's  ten  miles.  Supposing  anything 
should  happen  to  you  ?  You've  never  ridden 
more  than  half  a  mile  before  at  a  time." 

"  Neither  have  you." 

"  No  ;  but  if  anything  should  happen,  we 
should  be  together.  Oh,  Tom,  I  must  go. 
Besides,  it  will  be  moonlight  coming  home." 

"  Or  broad  daylight," 


150  IN  FLY- TIME 

Mr.  Baker,  who  had  followed  them  down 
the  staircase  listening  to  the  conversation, 
took  out  his  note-book  with  a  graphic  air. 
"  It  seems  to  me  a  most  charming  idea  that 
your  wife  should  accompany  you.  It  will 
add  a  peculiarly  picturesque  feature  to  the 
extraordinary  incidents  of  the  day,  which  I 
intend  to  describe  at  full  length  in  a  special 
article  in  the  columns  of  the  Foxburgh  Mail 
and  Gazette." 

"  How  dare  you,  sir  ?  "  exclaimed  Tom, 
turning  upon  him  with  the  sudden  ire  of  one 
who  has  been  goaded  beyond  his  strength, 
and  grasping  him  by  the  sleeve.  "  How  dare 
you  threaten  to  describe  the  personal  affairs 
of  myself  and  Mrs.  Nichols  in  the  public 
press  ?  I  have  put  up  with  enough  to-day 
already,  but  this  is  the  last  straw.  Promise 
me  that  you  will  not  allude  to  me  or  mine  in 
any  manner  whatsoever,  or  I  will  not  stir 
one  step  on  this  errand." 

"  Tom,  Tom,"  whispered  Mrs.  Nichols, 
"  you  forget  yourself.  Do  not  spoil  all  after 
you  have  acted  so  splendidly." 

Mr.  Baker  had  torn  himself  loose  from 
Tom's  grasp,  and  stood  with  folded  arms, 
the  picture  of  haughty  contempt,  waiting 


IN  FLY-TIME  151 

for  this  outburst  to  terminate.  Then  he 
said  : 

"  You  are  an  enemy  of  the  institutions  of 
your  country,  sir.  My  suspicions  were  already 
aroused,  but  I  am  sure  of  it  now.  You  are 
out  of  sympathy  with  the  fitting  celebration 
of  this  glorious  day  ;  you  have  hidden  in  the 
country,  and  refused  fire-crackers  to  your  chil 
dren  ;  you  sneer  at  popular  diversions  ;  and 
last,  and  worst,  you  would  muzzle  the  liberty 
of  the  press.  You  are  an  aristocrat,  sir,  a 
cold-blooded  aristocrat.  But  the  great  demo 
cratic  press  snaps  its  fingers  at  you." 

"  Mr.  Baker,"  protested  Mrs.  Nichols,  with 
engaging  mien,  "  my  husband  is  tired  and 
run  down  ;  he  has  'come  to  this  place  for  his 
health,  and  the  many  exciting  events  of  the 
day  have  worn  upon  him.  He  did  not  mean 
what  he  said,  believe  me.  We  are  going  for 
the  doctor  of  course,  and  we  feel  nothing  but 
the  kindest  sentiments  toward  you  and  Pro 
fessor  Strout ;  but — but  can't  you  understand 
that  to  people  who  have  no  taste  for  publicity 
the  idea  of  being  described  in  the  newspapers 
as  bicycle  -  riders  on  an  errand  of  mercy 
would  be  very  annoying,  especially  if  it  were 
illustrated  ?  " 


152  IN  FLY- TIME 

"  Of  course  it  would  be  illustrated,"  said 
Baker,  "  and  in  our  best  style.  I  believed 
you  would  like  it,  madam."  There  was  dis 
appointment  in  his  tone. 

The  interruption  by  his  wife  had  given 
Tom  time  to  think.  "I  beg  your  pardon," 
he  said,  extending  his  hand.  "  I  had  no 
right  to  speak  as  I  did.  As  Mrs.  Nichols 
has  said  to  you,  my  nerves  are  unstrung. 
Pray  accept  my  apologies,  and  after  the 
doctor  has  been  brought  here  we  will  discuss 
this  further." 

Mr.  Baker's  eyes  lighted  up  with  the  gleam 
of  generosity.  "  I  am  happy  to  withdraw 
the  epithets  which  I  used  in  the  heat  of  con 
troversy,"  he  said,  as  he  returned  the  hand 
shake. 

"  Odious  miscreant  and  interloper !  "  mut 
tered  Tom  five  minutes  later  as  he  mounted 
his  machine. 

"  'Sh  !  "  answered  Elizabeth.  "  Don't,  for 
Heaven's  sake,  agitate  me  now,  dear,  for  if  I 
should  fall  before  these  people  it  would  be 
the  crowning  stroke,  and  I  do  feel  wobbly." 

The  two  riders  worked  their  way  along  the 
highway  with  careful  deliberation,  followed 
by  the  plaudits  not  only  of  their  children, 


IN  FLY-TIME  153 

but  of  the  rest  of  the  company.  They  could 
hear  Uncle  Keuben  limping  after  them  in  his 
unwillingness  to  lose  sight  of  them,  and  tell 
ing  them  the  route  for  the  fifth  time. 

"  We  can't  expect  not  to  come  to  grief  be 
fore  long,"  continued  Elizabeth,  "but  I  do 
hope  that  nothing  will  happen  until  wre  get 
round  the  bend.  Don't  go  quite  so  fast,  Torn, 
dear." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Tom,  with  a  sigh,  "  that 
I  was  a  fool  to  get  mad.  He  and  I  look  at 
things  from  entirely  different  points  of  view. 
I  loathe  the  Fourth  of  July  and  he  loves  it, 
and  he  says  I'm  a  cold-blooded  aristocrat. 
I'm  willing  to  die  for  my  country,  but  why 
should  my  wife  and  children  be  paraded  in 
the  newspapers  ?  " 

"  And  on  bicycles,  too  !  Oh,  Tom,  can  you 
blow  your  nose  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Neither  can  I.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever 
be  able  to  ride  with  one  hand  ?  And  some 
people  use  neither.  I  think  they're  both 
taken  by  Maretta — don't  you  ?  " 

"  She's  too  good  for  them." 

"  Not  a  bit.  You're  prejudiced,  Tom.  I 
think  they're  rather  nice.  Mr.  Baker's  just 


154  IN  FLY -TIME 

the  sort  of  man  who  is  liable  to  become 
President  of  the  United  States,  and  a  girl 
might  well  think  twice  before  refusing  an 
aeronaut  who  could  be  a  necromancer  when 
business  was  dull.  Oh,  Tom,  are  you  going 
to  coast  ?  " 

Tom  was.  "We  shall  never  get  there  if 
we  don't.  It  looks  like  a  smooth  hill." 

Up  went  their  feet,  and  down  they  went. 
Elizabeth  gave  a  little  shriek,  which  was 
partly  joy  and  partly  apprehension,  when 
they  were  half-way  down. 

On  they  went  with  increasing  confidence. 
A  fly  flew  straight  into  Elizabeth's  eye,  and 
in  pain  and  bewilderment  she  clapped  one 
hand  to  the  spot,  and  in  another  instant  came 
rudely  in  contact  with  a  fence  at  the  road 
side.  But  this  might  happen  to  anyone,  she 
remarked,  after  she  had  remounted.  It  was 
an  exquisite  afternoon.  The  sunset  clouds 
were  beginning  to  variegate  the  west,  and  the 
landscape  was  a  delight  to  behold.  The  loos 
ening  of  one  of  the  nuts  in  Tom's  machine 
caused  a  delay  of  fifteen  minutes.  Presently 
it  became  necessary  to  pump  air  into  one  of 
the  pneumatic  tires.  But  these  were  trifles, 
and  on  they  went. 


IN  FLY-TIME  155 

"  Why  do  you  keep  chirruping  to  your 
wheel  as  if  it  were  a  horse  ?  "  asked  Eliza 
beth  presently. 

"  Because  I  can't  forget  that  it  isn't  a  horse. 
When  that  train  went  by  a  few  minutes  ago 
I  expected  it  to  rear.  When  I  wish  it  to  go 
faster  I  say  '  click,'  and  feel  like  an  idiot  a 
moment  after." 

They  stopped  at  a  farm-house  for  some 
milk,  and  learned  that  they  had  covered  one- 
half  of  the  distance  in  a  little  less  than  an 
hour,  including  stops.  Ten  minutes  later  the 
sun  went  down. 

"  Now  it  will  be  cooler  and  more  poetic," 
said  Elizabeth.  "Do  I  look  like  a  guy, 
Tom?" 

"  No ;  you  are  perfectly  sweet." 

"  That  was  lovely  of  you,  even  if  it  was  a 
white  lie.  When  the  moon  comes  out  it  will 
be  heavenly." 

"  Look,"  cried  Tom,  pointing  to  the  ho 
rizon,  where  the  streak  of  the  first  rocket  in 
dicated  that  the  American  people  were  still 
hard  at  work.  Ten  minutes  later  the  whole 
sky  was  alive  with  distant  fireworks  varie 
gated  by  heat-lightning.  Ten  minutes  later 
Elizabeth's  machine  broke  down.  It  hap- 


15C>  IN  FLY- TIME 

pened  without  warning,  and  the  break  was 
radical  and  comprehensive.  Their  combined 
mechanical  resources  were  put  utterly  to  con 
fusion.  What  were  they  to  do?  They  sat 
upon  a  fence  to  ponder  the  matter. 

"  You  must  go  on,"  said  Elizabeth,  firmly. 

"  And  leave  you  behind  ?  " 

"  That  poor  man  must  have  a  doctor." 

"  You  might  go  and  let  me  stay." 

"  No ;  a  woman  riding  a  bicycle  alone  at 
dead  of  night  would  be  worse  than  a  woman 
sitting  on  a  fence.  I  will  stay  here." 

"  But,  Elizabeth,  supposing  something  or 
some  one  should " 

"  Pooh  !  "  she  interrupted.  "  As  for  some 
things,  there  are  no  bears  or  lions ;  and  as 
for  some  ones,  all  the  tramps  must  have  gone 
to  town  to  see  the  fireworks.  When  the 
moon  gets  up  it  will  not  even  be  pokey.  I 
shall  sit  on  this  fence  and  poetize  until  you 
return.  Kiss  me,  dear,  and  go." 

Tom  obeyed.  His  embrace  suggested  a 
little  that  he  might  be  parting  with  her  for 
ever,  but  he  had  no  arguments  wherewith  to 
refute  her  logic.  Once  under  way  his  appre 
hensions  lent  velocity  to  his  pace.  He  took 
chances,  and  therefore  two  headers.  But  he 


IN  FLY-TIM!-:  157 

made  slightly  better  time.  He  was  sore, 
dirty,  and  tired  when  he  reached  the  doctor's 
house,  which  looked  forbiddingly  dark.  It 
was  half  past  eight.  The  doctor  must  have 
gone  to  bed,  or  more  probably  to  see  the 
fireworks  in  the  town,  which  were  in  full 
blaze  when  Tom  arrived.  He  dismounted 
and  rang.  Presently  the  window  was  thrown 
open,  and  a  head  appeared. 

"  Holloa,  there  !  " 

"  Is  Dr.  Hopkins  at  home  ?  " 

"I'm  the  doctor.  What'll  you  have?" 
said  a  cheery  voice. 

Tom  explained  his  needs. 

"The  widow  Coffin's  farm?  That's  the 
end  of  everything,  isn't  it?  And  I  was  just 
trying  to  forget  that  I  had  attended  seven 
cases  of  singed  young  America  and  two  cases 
of  *  didn't  know  it  was  loaded  '  since  the  sun 
rose  on  this  glorious  anniversary.  I'll  be 
down  in  a  minute." 

It  was  barely  five  minutes  before  the  doctor 
opened  the  door.  He  was  tall  and  athletic 
looking.  "  My  wife,  my  children,  my  hired 
man,  and  my  hired  girl  have  all  gone  to  see 
the  fireworks,"  he  said,  "  so  you'll  excuse  my 
not  letting  you  in  sooner.  I  saw  you  were  on 


158  IN  FLY- TIME 

a  bicycle,  so  I'm  in  bicycle  rig  too.  It's  a 
fine  night  for  a  spin.  I  think  nothing  of 
twenty  miles." 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  with  a  gasp.  "  Excuse 
me — er — there's  a  lady  in  the  case." 

"  I  thought  you  said  it  was  a  man." 

"  A  man  has  broken  his  leg,  but  my  wife  is 
sitting  on  a  fence  half -way  between  here  and 
the  farm." 

"  Anything  serious  ?  "  said  Dr.  Hopkins, 
who  from  this  description  jumped  at  the  con 
clusion  that  there  must  be  two  patients  in 
stead  of  one. 

"  I  mean  that  my  wife's  bicycle  has  broken 
down,  and  I  had  to  come  on  alone,  and — and 
if  we  ride  back  on  bicycles,  what  is  to  become 
of  her?" 

"Oh,  I  see.  That's  easily  solved.  I'll 
hitch  up  the  bay  and  drive  instead,  and  pick 
up  your  wife  on  the  way.  Or,  no,"  added 
the  doctor,  slapping  his  thigh,  "  there's  a 
better  way  still ;  I'll  take  your  bicycle,  and 
tell  the  lady  that  you're  coming."  There 
upon  he  began  to  strap  his  bag  of  implements 
on  to  Tom's  machine. 

"  I'm  very  grateful,  I'm  sure,"  said  Tom, 
who  had  been  wondering  how  he  should  be 


IN  FLY-TIME  159 

able  to  keep  pace  with  the  doctor  on  a  wheel. 
The  doctor  might  think  nothing  of  twenty 
miles,  but  ten  had  taken  all  the  wind  and  en 
ergy  out  of  him.  A  half-hour  later  he  caught 
sight  at  last  of  a  solitary  figure  perched  on  a 
fence,  and  realized  that  Elizabeth  was  where 
he  had  left  her. 

"  Well,  dear,"  she  cried,  as  he  drew  in  the 
quiet,  plodding  nag,  "  here  I  am  safe  and 
sound.  You  don't  know  how  my  heart 
throbbed  with  envy  as  I  beheld  the  doctor 
flying  toward  me.  I  thought  it  was  you,  and 
I  said  to  myself,  '  How  splendidly  he  rides  ! ' 
And  I  never  realized  it  wasn't  you  until  he 
rode  up  to  me  and  said,  *  This  must  be  Mrs 
Nichols.'  Do  you  suppose  we  shall  ever  be 
able  to  ride  as  he  does  ?  " 

"  And  nothing  harmed  you  ?  "  asked  Tom, 
avoiding  the  question. 

"  Nothing  worse  than  a  bat.  And  I  thought 
I  smelled  a — polecat.  It  was  lovely  though, 
Tom  ;  so  peaceful  and  poetic.  The  fence  was 
a  little  hard,  but  I  was  afraid  to  lie  down  for 
fear  of  creeping  things.  What  time  is  it, 
dear  ?  "  she  asked,  as  she  settled  back  in  the 
comfortable  vehicle,  while  Tom  carefully  con 
cealed  the  broken  bicycle  behind  the  fence. 


ICO  IN  FLY-TIME 

"  A  little  after  nine." 

Elizabeth  was  silent  for  a  few  moments ; 
then  she  said,  "  An  ordinary  horse  and 
buggy  are  really  very  satisfactory  in  the  long- 
run,  after  all." 

"  I  should  think  they  were,"  said  Tom,  as 
he  took  the  reins. 

They  were  not  long  in  reaching  the  aban 
doned  farm  which  they  now  called  home. 
Mr.  Baker  met  them  at  the  gate  on  arrival. 
He  was  in  high  spirits,  for  Dr.  Hopkins  had 
agreed  to  carry  him  as  far  as  their  ways  were 
the  same,  and  he  would  be  in  Foxburgh  in 
time  to  print  the  article  which  he  had  written 
for  the  morning  paper.  He  said  that  the 
professor  was  as  comfortable  as  could  be  ex 
pected,  and  that  the  fracture  was  nothing  out 
of  the  common  run  of  broken  legs,  but  that 
prompt  medical  attendance  had  doubtless 
saved  him  from  pain  and  the  risk  of  serious 
complications. 

"  I  beg  to  offer  you,  both  on  his  behalf  and 
on  mine,  the  heartiest  thanks  for  your  philan 
thropic  and  generous  assistance,"  continued 
Mr.  Baker,  with  fervor,  as  they  walked  toward 
the  house  after  the  horse  had  been  hitched. 
"  But  for  your  night  ride  of  mercy  my  friend's 


A   SOLITARY   FIGURE   PERCHED  ON   A   FENCE 


IN  FLY-TIME  161 

leg  might  have  been  lost  to  him  forever,  if 
not  his  life  endangered.  While  the  free 
press  of  this  countiy  yields  neither  to  threats 
nor  to  pressure,  a  noble  action  is  never  lost 
upon  it.  Permit  me  to  inform  you  that  there 
is  not  the  slightest  allusion  to  either  of  you 
in  the  chronicle  of  the  day's  adventure  which 
I  have  prepared  during  your  absence."  He 
produced  as  he  spoke  a  roll  of  manuscript, 
which  he  held  out  rhetorically.  "  The  omis 
sion  will  be  a  loss  to  literature,  and  a  mani 
fest  renunciation  of  the  legitimate  fruits  of 
journalistic  enterprise,  but  I  take  the  respon 
sibility  upon  my  own  shoulders." 

Mr.  Baker's  tones  were  those  of  one  who 
feels  that  he  is  making  a  sacrifice,  but  yet  is 
willing  and  glad  to  make  it.  His  thin,  nervous 
face  looked  solemn  and  impressive  in  the 
moonlight. 

"  It's  very  kind  of  you,  I  am  sure,"  said 
Mrs.  Nichols. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  we're  very  much  obliged  to 
you,"  murmured  Tom. 

They  both  felt  like  guilty  wretches. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  with 
a  wave  of  his  hand. 

He  still  remained  outside,  while  Tom  and 
11 


162  IN  FLY-TIME 

his  wife  went  upstairs  to  make  sure  that  the 
children  had  been  properly  looked  after  and 
to  inquire  for  the  invalid.  They  found  the 
professor  in  the  possession  of  the  Coffin 
family,  who  were  bent  on  making  him  com 
fortable.  His  leg  had  been  set,  and  the 
doctor  was  on  the  eve  of  departure.  The 
children,  who  were  still  awake,  were  loud  in 
their  praises  of  Mr.  Baker's  display  of  fire 
works. 

"  I  feel  somehow  as  though  that  man  had 
sacrificed  his  principles  for  us,  and  put  us 
under  obligation  for  life,"  said  Elizabeth  to 
her  husband. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Tom,  "  and  yet  there  is 
not  the  slightest  reason  why  we  should  feel 
so." 

But  he  went  to  his  drawer,  and  taking  out 
half  a  dozen  of  his  best  cigars,  slipped  down 
stairs.  Mr.  Baker  was  still  out-doors,  and 
was  looking  at  the  moon  meditatively. 

"  Perhaps  these  will  come  in  pleasantly 
during  your  journey,"  said  Tom. 

The  reporter  took  the  cigars  with  a  bow, 
and  immediately  proceeded  to  light  one. 
Then  he  put  his  arm  in  Tom's,  and  said,  in  a 
whisper, 


IN  FLY-TIME  163 

"  Is  Maretta  keeping  company  with  any 
one  ?  " 

This  was  a  little  disconcerting,  but  Tom 
duly  found  his  tongue.  "  Not  to  my  knowl 
edge  ;  but,  you  know,  I  arrived  only  last 
night." 

"  True,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  with  an  air  of 
gloom.  "  I  beg  to  inform  you,  in  the  strict 
est  confidence,  that  I  intend  to  make  her 
Mrs.  Irving  K.  Baker,  and  I  now  invite  you 
and  your  lady  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony, 
which  I  hope  will  take  place  in  the  early 
fall." 

"  I  accept,  with  pleasure,"  said  Tom, 
"  provided " 

He  had  been  going  to  say,  provided  he 
were  still  there,  but  Mr.  Baker  finished  the 
sentence  for  him : 

"  Provided,  of  course,  that  no  unforeseen 
obstacles  to  the  match  on  the  part  of  the 
young  lady  arise  in  the  near  future." 

How  often  are  experiences  which  we  think 
unfortunate  at  the  time  conducive  to  our  ul 
timate  welfare !  If  any  one  had  prophesied 
to  Tom  Nichols,  the  architect,  when  he  chose 
an  abandoned  farm  as  a  spot  where  he  might 
meditate  on  art  to  advantage,  that  ultimately 


16-i  IN  FLY-TIME 

he  would  owe  the  award  in  his  favor  for  the 
Roxburgh  Public  Library  to  the  acquaint 
ance  made  by  him  on  the  Fourth  of  July  with 
a  reporter  who  had  fallen  with  a  balloon,  he 
would  have  considered  the  prophet  mad. 
And  yet  this  proved  to  be  the  case,  for  Irving 
K.  Baker  was  chosen  a  member  of  the  City 
Council  of  Foxburgh  in  the  following  autumn, 
and  subsequently  became  a  member  and 
leading  spirit  of  the  Committee  on  the  New 
Library.  Let  it  be  said  to  Mr.  Baker's 
credit  that  at  the  time  he  voted  in  favor  of 
Tom's  design  he  had  been  crossed  in  love, 
and  was  in  a  doleful  state  of  mind,  which  in 
some  mortals  might  have  bred  a  malignant 
spirit  toward  all  abandoned  farms  and  their 
occupants.  Obstacles  on  the  part  of  the 
young  lady  had  arisen,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  the  suitor  paid  weekly  visits  to  the 
abandoned  farm,  and  sent  sundry  and  fre 
quent  gifts  of  candy  and  fruit  to  take  the 
place  of  his  presence.  Sad  to  relate,  the 
professor  ate  much  of  the  candy  and  fruit  in 
the  course  of  his  prolonged  convalescence, 
and  by  the  time  he  was  well  had  persuaded 
the  fair  Maretta  to  link  her  destiny  to  his. 
She  became  Mrs.  Alvin  Strout  on  a  beautiful 


IN  FLY-TIME  105 

September  day.  The  professor  had  suggested 
the  appropriateness  of  being  married  in  mid 
air  in  a  balloon,  and  offered  to  provide  a 
clergyman  willing  to  risk  the  voyage;  but 
Maretta  decided  in  favor  of  a  church.  Tom 
and  his  wife  were  present,  and  they  rode  to 
the  church  on  bicycles  with  amazing  swift 
ness.  Tom  was  rested  and  five  pounds 
heavier,  with  his  design  for  the  library  firmly 
in  his  mind's  eye.  And  Mr.  Baker  was  there 
too,  magnanimous  to  the  last.  In  spite  of 
his  feelings  he  wrote  a  dazzling  account  of 
the  nuptials,  headed  "  A  Society  Wedding  on 
an  Abandoned  Farm,"  in  which  the  names  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomas  Nichols  did  not  ap 
pear. 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

MY  name  is  Doddridge — George  Harper 
Doddridge — though  it  is  scarcely  im 
portant  for  you  to  know  it,  seeing  that  I  am 
to  be  merely  a  chronicler.  I  am  addressed 
familiarly  among  my  friends  and  acquaint 
ances  as  Dodd;  but  some  of  the  married 
ones,  whose  children  are  encouraged  to  ride 
horseback  on  my  either  leg  as  a  sort  of  in 
demnity  for  the  dinners  I  consume,  call  me 
Uncle  George — a  pseudonyme  which  has  been 
adopted  also  by  the  younger  set  at  the  club. 
I  am  the  oldest  bachelor  in  the  house,  and 
yet  I  am  not  so  very  old.  Excepting  a  grizzly 
patch  on  either  side,  my  hair  is  still  dark  and 
abundant  as  a  lad's,  save  for  a  bald  spot  on 
the  crown  ;  and  I  can  see  straight  as  the  crow 
flies,  which  all  married  men  of  fifty  are  not 
able  to  do.  I  mention  these  details  merely 
to  demonstrate  that  I  am  neither  lame,  halt, 
nor  blind.  And  yet  they  call  me  Uncle 


170  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

George.  I  suppose  the  reason  is  because  I 
have  been  catalogued  as  a  confirmed  old 
bachelor,  and  consequently  am  regarded  as  a 
safe  repository  for  all  sorts  of  confidences 
and  a  convenient  object  of  social  charity.  It 
is  generally  understood  that  I  shall  never 
marry.  My  story  ?  Pardon  me,  I  intend  to 
keep  that  one  to  myself.  Yet  I  will  tell  you 
that  I  am  pointed  out  to  young  girls  in  their 
first  season  as  a  constant  man,  and  I  have  de 
tected  in  the  eyes  of  more  than  one  of  them  a 
look  of  sympathetic  pity,  suggestive  of  a  desire 
to  ask  me  all  about  it,  if  they  only  dared. 

I  am  the  oldest  bachelor  in  the  house,  both 
in  point  of  years  and  occupancy.  My  rooms 
are  the  pleasantest  of  their  kind.  From  one 
of  my  parlor  windows  I  command  a  glimpse 
of  the  harbor  over  the  chimney-tops,  and 
from  the  other  see  hills  green  with  foliage  or 
white  with  snow,  according  to  the  season.  I 
came  here  twenty  years  ago  to  a  small  low 
house  where  there  was  accommodation  for 
only  four  other  lodgers.  Eight  years  back 
this  was  pulled  down,  and  on  the  ground 
formerly  covered  by  it  and  two  adjoining 
buildings  the  present  towering  apartment 
house  was  erected.  I  went  around  the  world 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  171 

while  the  work  was  being  done,  and  on  my 
return  installed  myself  in  my  present  quar 
ters,  where  I  intend  to  die.  The  homelike 
feeling  which  I  knew  beneath  the  roof  with  a 
landlady  has  departed,  but  I  have  all  the 
modern  conveniences  under  the  sway  of  a 
janitor;  notably  plumbing  and  electricity. 
There  is  a  fire-escape  at  my  bed-chamber 
window  ;  but  if  the  house  burns,  I  shall  bum 
with  it  rather  than  risk  the  descent.  It  is 
well  enough  for  the  family  man  to  go  down 
a  stepladder  in  his  night-gown  at  dead  of 
night ;  but  I  have  only  a  nephew,  who  will 
not  be  inconsolable,  to  mourn  me. 

This  vicinity  is  a  favorite  one  for  bache 
lors,  and  deservedly  so,  for  it  is  central,  and 
many  things  which  single  men  who  have  to 
shift  for  themselves  require  are  close  at  hand  ; 
though,  come  to  think  of  it,  the  bachelors 
were  here  before  the  creature  comforts,  and 
the  neighborhood  has  grown  up  to  cater  to 
our  necessities.  The  three  houses  which 
stood  where  our  apartment-house,  the  Bex- 
ford,  now  stands  were  all  occupied  by  single 
men,  and  there  were  other  warrens  across  the 
way  and  on  the  same  street,  out  of  which  or 
into  which  at  almost  any  hour  of  the  day  or 


172  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

night  single  men  were  liable  to  pop.  Now 
the  Rexford  shelters  all ;  and  shelters  not 
merely  bachelors,  for  in  the  flat  immediately 
under  mine  a  girl  artist  lives  a  blameless  life, 
and  across  the  entry  from  hers  is  the  home 
of  a  woman  who  writes  for  the  society  news 
papers,  and  has  literary  aspirations.  Our 
little  world  has  become  more  complex  now 
that  the  sphere  of  woman  has  widened,  and 
there  is  a  milliner  as  well  as  a  florist  and  an 
apothecary  in  close  proximity  to  the  Eexford. 
Two  doctors  have  their  signs  directly  oppo 
site,  and  there  is  another — a  bachelor — in  the 
house.  There  is  a  cabman  at  the  corner,  and 
altogether  I  am  very  well  off  for  a  single 
man. 

Twenty  years !  They  tell  me  I  am  growing 
set,  as  all  old  bachelors  do ;  and  I  will  admit 
that  I  am  more  particular  than  I  used  to  be 
about  my  food,  and  like  to  have  it  at  certain 
times  and  piping  hot.  Still,  I  can  assume  as 
cheerful  a  countenance  as  any  man  of  my  age, 
or  younger,  if  the  dinner  hour  of  my  host  be 
eight  o'clock,  or  some  heedless  girl  fresh  from 
the  nursery  makes  a  mistake  of  thirty  min 
utes  and  is  a  quarter  tardy  into  the  bargain. 
A  man  who,  like  myself,  is  constantly  climb- 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  173 

ing  up  and  down  another's  stairs  cannot  afford 
to  run  amuck  too  fiercely  with  the  world  if 
he  does  not  wish  to  comprehend  how  much 
more  bitter  in  the  long-run  the  club  salt  is 
than  any  other.  Twenty  years!  In  that 
time  what  an  army  of  bachelors  I  have  seen 
stepping  into  life  with  the  down  on  their 
upper  lips,  and  stepping  from  day  to  day, 
briskly  or  sadly  as  the  case  might  be,  until 
they  walked  up  the  aisle  with  a  lover's  pride, 
or  gave  up  the  fight  and  subsided  into  mid 
dle-aged  single  men  with  bald  heads  !  How 
many  stories  I  could  tell  of  their  doings — 
stories  sometimes  of  wedding-cake  and  for 
get-me-nots,  and  now  of  broken  hearts  and 
ruined  lives !  Here  is  one  : 

I  used  to  think  blood  a  delusion,  and  quite 
at  odds  with  democratic  doctrine,  but  the 
older  I  grow  the  more  am  I  led  to  believe 
that  an  honorable  lineage  is  the  best  of  heri 
tages.  To  one  who  is  not  a  pessimist  or  a 
cynic  traditions  as  to  his  father's  father's 
wisdom  and  his  great-grandmother's  engaging 
charms  act  as  spurs  or  incentives  to  noble 
effort,  even  though  the  lustre  of  his  house 
has  been  dimmed  by  adversity  and  its  useful 
ness  foreshortened  by  death.  I  have  seen 


174  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

more  than  one  man  in  a  tight  place  squeal 
like  a  calf,  and  have  remembered  that  his 
father  was  a  miser,  or  a  coward,  or  a  boor. 

Kobert  Temple  came  to  live  in  the  old 
house  in  the  autumn  of  '71.  The  somewhat 
fantastic  nickname  Kobin,  which  his  mother 
gave  him  when  a  little  boy,  had  clung  to  him. 
It  seemed  to  suit  him.  He  was  a  slim,  rather 
delicate-looking  youth,  with  what  was  almost 
an  old-fashioned  cast  of  countenance,  and  a 
figure  of  the  dainty  type  one  associates  with 
the  era  of  miniatures,  flowered  waistcoats, 
and  tight -fitting  coats  with  brass  buttons. 
His  hair  was  wavy,  his  expression  thoughtful, 
and  his  eyes — dark,  eloquent  pleaders — were 
now  wistful,  now  scintillant  with  enthusiasm. 

I  had  met  him  casually  before,  but  with 
the  indifference  a  young  man  is  apt  to  accord 
to  another  several  years  his  junior,  and  my 
real  acquaintance  dates  from  the  evening 
when  I,  the  senior  of  the  house,  went  up  to 
pay  my  respects  to  the  new  lodger.  His 
rooms  were  over  mine,  at  the  top  of  the  house, 
and  he  had  been  in  possession  only  forty- 
eight  hours.  I  can  see  him  now  as  he  looked 
when  I  entered.  He  was  engaged  in  hanging 
up  the  sword  of  his  father,  who  fell  at  Get- 


RICHARD  ANT)   ROBIN  175 

tysburg.  As  we  shook  hands  the  tear  which 
he  had  brushed  off,  doubtless,  when  he  heard 
my  knock,  moistened  my  wrist.  We  talked 
at  first  of  commonplace  things  —  the  merits 
and  demerits  of  our  landlady,  and  precautions 
against  the  too  rapid  disappearance  of  coal  ; 
but  presently  the  conversation  drifted  back 
to  that  with  which  his  soul  was  full. 

"  You  were  in  the  war  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  ;  I  enlisted,  but  typhoid  fever  laid 
me  low  before  I  was  able  even  to  learn  the 
tactics  or  wear  a  knapsack." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  "What  a  pity  !  "  he 
said,  softly,  as  though  I  had  told  him  of  some 
vital  grief  which  he  had  molested.  "  How  I 
envy  my  father  !  "  he  said,  presently.  "  All 
puzzling  problems  were  absorbed  for  him  in 
the  opportunity  to  stand  at  his  post  and  be 
shot  down  for  the  sake  of  a  great  right." 

I  understood  him  well.  Often  had  I  up 
braided  Providence  for  leaving  me  in  the 
lurch  when  it  gave  my  contemporaries  the 
chance  to  satisfy  conscience  at  one  fell  swoop. 
And  here  was  another,  who  had  been  born 
too  late  to  claim  his  part,  looking  back  long- 


I  answered  Kobin  sufficiently  in  this  vein 


176  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

to  show  him  that  I  sympathized  with  him, 
yet  I  said,  too  : 

"  They  are  not  the  only  heroes.  The  world 
is  full  of  opportunities  to-day." 

He  looked  up  at  me  brightly.  "  I  know 
it,"  he  said.  "  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
myself  for  repining.  I  have  come  here  to 
work  hard,  Mr.  Doddridge." 

Glancing  around  the  room,  I  saw  evi 
dences  of  taste  and  of  an  artistic  tempera 
ment  on  every  side.  A  variety  of  prints  and 
etchings,  each  one  of  which  caught  the  eye 
by  its  merit,  were  on  the  walls  or  ready  to 
hang.  Books,  knick-knacks,  a  few  pieces  of 
choice  pottery,  which  he  had  picked  up  in 
his  two  years  abroad,  were  in  process  of  ar 
rangement.  Close  beside  me  was  a  large 
portfolio. 

"  Will  you  let  me  look  at  some  of  your 
work,"  I  asked,  "  while  you  continue  your 
house-furnishing  ?  " 

He  seemed  pleased,  and  cleared  a  space 
on  the  table  for  the  portfolio.  While  I  ex 
amined  his  sketches  he  stood  at  my  elbow, 
putting  in  a  word  of  explanation  noAV  and 
again,  with  a  fantastic  red  and  white  feather 
duster  over  his  shoulder.  When  I  had  com* 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  177 

to  the  end  he  began  nervously  to  dust  a  Jap 
anese  tea-trav. 

"  Temple,"  I  said,  presently,  delaying  a 
little  perhaps  to  choose  my  words,  loath  to 
praise  too  much,  and  yet  wishing  to  express 
my  conviction  that  he  had  exceptional  talent, 
"  I  don't  think  you  need  envy  anyone.  Some 
of  these  are  delightful.  You  have  a  delicacy 
of  fancy  of  your  own  which  is  captivating, 
and  quite  unusual.  I  plume  myself  on  know 
ing  a  little  something  about  painting,  and  so 
I  make  bold  to  give  you  my  opinion." 

"  It  is  a  limited  range,  however,"  he  an 
swered,  though  he  flushed  with  gratification. 

"  Yes,  it  is  limited,  and  a  little  too  deli 
cate,  perhaps,  for  popular  appreciation ;  but 
it  is  true.  And  truth  is  really  what  we  are 
all  striving  after,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Indeed  it  is.  Thank  you  very  much,  Mr. 
Doddridge.  You  have  no  idea  how  encour 
aging  your  praise  is  to  me.  I  was  becoming 
a  little  downcast.  My  family  does  not  ap 
prove  of  my  art.  They  let  me  go  abroad, 
hoping  to  cure  me,  and  they  are  disappointed 
that  I  have  come  back  with  no  more  taste  for 
business  than  before." 

I  remembered  that  he  had  two  older  broth- 
12 


ITS  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

ers — John  Temple,  a  coffee  merchant,  and 
Samuel  Temple,  a  gentleman  farmer,  who 
had  married  a  rich  wife. 

"  Have  your  brothers  seen  these  sketches  ?  " 
I  inquired. 

"Yes.  They  say  they  are  very  pretty. 
But  my  brother  John  seems  to  think  they 
won't  sell.  He  says  I  can  be  a  partner  in 
his  firm  in  five  years  if  I  only  buckle  down." 

"  And  are  you  tempted  ?  " 

"  If  it  were  not  for  Dick  Benton  I  should 
have  yielded  before  this.  Don't  you  know 
"Richard  Benton  ?  "  he  added. 

While  the  question  was  still  on  his  lips 
there  was  a  sharp  knock  at  the  door,  and  by 
an  odd  coincidence  the  young  man  to  whom 
he  referred  entered.  I  knew  his  people,  and 
had  seen  him  as  a  lad  on  the  streets,  as  in 
the  case  of  Robin,  but  he  was  practically  a 
new  acquaintance.  Two  men  were  never 
more  unlike  in  personal  appearance  than 
these  two.  Richard — or  Dick  Benton,  as 
the  world  called  him — was  a  typical  square- 
shouldered,  compact,  sturdy  specimen  of  hu 
manity,  with  the  bearing  already  at  twenty- 
five  of  an  alert,  shrewd  man  of  affairs.  As  I 
learned  the  next  day,  he  had  just  started  in 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  179 

business  for  himself  downtown.  He  looked 
the  kind  of  man  who  would  never  tire,  has 
no  nerves,  and  not  much  imagination,  yet  of 
whom  one  predicates,  after  the  first  five  min 
utes,  that  he  has  a  large  fund  of  horse-sense. 
There  was  something  refreshingly  cheery  and 
wholesome  in  his  demeanor  which  suggested 
a  steady  west  wind. 

"  We  scarcely  knew  each  other  in  college," 
explained  Robin,  presently.  "  We  became 
intimate  at  one  fell  swoop,  curiously  enough, 
on  the  Gorner  Grat.  We  went  up  inde 
pendently  to  see  the  sun  rise,  and  became 
friends." 

"  What  a  morning  that  was ! "  said  Ben  ton. 

"  Wasn't  it  ?  Not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  and 
the  mountains  gorgeously  white  with  the 
first  snow  of  the  season,  which  had  fallen  the 
afternoon  before.  Peaks  and  peaks  on  every 
side,  and  in  front  of  us  the  Matterhorn  tow 
ering  like  a  grand,  cold  goddess.  It  was 
sublime." 

"You  have  never  done  anything  better 
than  the  sketch  you  made  then  while  I 
looked  over  your  shoulder.  I  expect  to  be 
offered  ten  thousand  dollars  for  that  some 
day,  and  to  refuse  it." 


180  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Robin,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Mr.  Doddridge  has  been  looking  at  my 
things,  Dick,  and  he  has  been  kind  enough 
to  say  that  they  are  pretty  good." 

"  Of  course  they  are  good,"  Benton  said, 
as  he  cut  some  tobacco  for  a  pipe. 

"  But  Mr.  Doddridge  is  a  connoisseur  in 
art." 

"  And  I  know  nothing  about  it  ?  Granted. 
But  I  know  what  I  like,  Robin,"  he  added, 
defiantly,  as  he  rammed  the  cavendish  in, 
"  and  I  like  your  pictures.  And  I  believe  if 
you  stick  to  your  paint-brush  you  will  make 
your  reputation." 

"And  how  about  starving  in  the  mean 
while  ?  " 

"You  will  not  starve,"  said  Benton,  qui 
etly. 

"  I  have  one  thousand  dollars  a  year,"  he 
said,  addressing  me.  "On  one  thousand  a 
year  can  a  man  dress  like  a  gentleman,  go 
into  society,  and  keep  a  yacht  or  a  saddle- 
horse  ?  " 

"Pshaw!"  said  Benton.  "Why  should 
a  man  who  can  paint  like  you  think  of 
those  things?  Leave  them  to  the  common 
clay." 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  181 

"  Tame  is  the  spur  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise 
(That  last  infirmity  of  noble  minds) 
To  scorn  delights,  and  live  laborious  days,'  " 

I  quoted. 

Robin  looked  up  at  me  with  a  gleam  of 
pleasure.  "  When  you  hear  me  abused, 
then,  as  an  unpractical  visionary  fellow  who 
can't  earn  his  salt,  you  must  stand  up  for 
me." 

I  think  I  understood  very  well  what  was 
working  in  Robin's  mind.  He  was  a  sensi 
tive  soul,  and  he  wished  to  have  public  opin 
ion  on  his  side — that  is,  the  opinion  of  his 
general  acquaintance,  his  contemporaries, 
then  chiefly  bachelors.  He  would  have 
winced,  for  instance,  at  the  patronizing  ef 
frontery  of  David  Finn  which  was  addressed 
to  me  two  or  three  days  later  as  we  walked 
up  the  street  together.  Finn  was  another  of 
the  four  lodgers  in  our  house,  and  a  success 
ful  stock-broker,  though  only  just  thirty,  and 
an  exquisite  in  his  appearance  and  surround 
ings.  He  wTas  reputed  to  have  made  two 
hundred  thousand  dollars  by  selling  stocks 
which  he  did  not  own,  or  buying  stocks 
which  he  had  not  the  money  to  pay  for — I 
forget  which ;  and  he  carried  himself  haugh- 


182  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

tily,  as  though  his  father  had  been  a  Mon 
tague,  whereas  the  story  is  that  he  was  a 
sea-captain  who  retired  on  the  insurance- 
money  which  he  recovered  from  a  company 
whose  defence  was  that  he  had  set  fire  to  his 
own  vessel.  That  was  the  story,  but  it  may 
never  have  been  true.  Besides,  the  jury  gave 
him  a  verdict. 

"  Holloa,  Uncle  George,  old  chappie  ! 
What  sort  is  the  new  inmate  ?  One  of  those 
literary  fellows,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  He's  an  artist." 

"  Oh  yes !  More  money  nowadays  in 
painting  signs  than  pictures,  isn't  there  ?  " 

David  Finn  had  a  prosperous  air,  which 
was  rather  contagious.  Society  newspaper 
scavengers  habitually  described  him  as  "  well- 
groomed,"  and  he  certainly  looked  as  though 
he  had  enough  to  eat  and  more  than  enough 
to  drink,  and  took  fully  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  baths  in  the  course  of  the  year. 
He  was  a  clever  whip,  too,  and  could  be  seen 
almost  any  afternoon  on  the  box  of  a  stylish 
cart  behind  a  neat-looking  cob,  as  sleek  and 
well  groomed  as  his  master.  In  social  mat 
ters  also  he  was  prominent.  He  had  a  way 
of  twisting  his  mustache  which  took  the 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  183 

place  of  conversation,  and  there  was  no 
denying  his  physical  comeliness.  The  moth 
ers  of  the  marriageable  girls  were  wondering 
whom  he  would  marry. 

Robin's  die  was  cast — that  is  to  say,  he 
had  definitely  decided  not  to  go  into  the  cof 
fee  business — and  he  was  hard  at  work  in  his 
studio  at  the  top  of  our  house,  which  had 
been  adapted  to  the  purpose  by  cutting  a 
hole  in  the  roof  and  providing  a  skylight.  I 
was  downtown  during  the  day,  but  I  made  a 
habit  of  dropping  in  on  him  in  the  evening 
from  time  to  time  to  keep  track  of  what  he 
was  doing,  and  every  now  and  then  he  would 
turn  his  canvases  which  stood  against  the 
wall,  or  draw  the  covering  from  his  easel  to 
let  me  see  his  work.  He  could  not  hope,  he 
said,  to  do  enough  for  an  exhibition  by  the 
spring,  but  he  expected  by  the  autumn  to  be 
ready  for  the  public.  Sometimes  I  met  there 
Hichard  Benton,  who  had  taken  the  remain 
ing  suite  in  our  house,  which  had  unexpect 
edly  become  vacant ;  frequently,  too,  David 
Finn,  who  was  directly  opposite  Eobin,  and 
who  when  he  was  at  home  liked  an  audience. 
"When  Finn  was  present,  as  may  be  surmised, 
the  conversation  did  not  concern  art,  but 


184:  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

dealt  with  the  operations  of  syndicates,  the 
condition  of  the  stock  market,  speculations 
as  to  how  rich  A  was,  and  whether  B  had 
made  or  lost  money,  the  relative  speed  of 
yachts,  and  the  ailments  and  fine  points  of 
horses.  Robin  chiefly  listened  to  these  re 
citals  in  a  sort  of  fascinated  silence.  There 
was  one  topic,  however,  which  they  discussed 
in  common — woman. 

I  have  reference  to  Robin's  state  of  mind 
about  Easter-time.  It  was  not  until  then 
that  he  began  to  take  notice,  so  to  speak,  and 
to  delight  to  lead  the  conversation  to  their 
social  doings  and  let  it  linger  there.  David 
Finn  had  in  his  every-day  speech  a  cynical 
style  where  the  other  sex  was  concerned. 
He  knew  of  at  least  ten  women  in  society— 
not  to  mention  names.  "  One  of  the  men  in 
question  told  me  himself,  and  boasted  about 
it,"  he  would  add,  to  clinch  the  credibility  of 
the  matter.  But  though  his  attitude  in  the 
abstract  was  one  of  suspicion,  he  was  not 
without  his  enthusiasms  regarding  the  young 
women  of  his  acquaintance,  and  though  criti 
cal,  he  could  be  eloquent  concerning  individ 
ual  cases  of  eyes,  and  hair,  and  shoulders. 
He  and  Robin — and,  for  the  matter  of  that, 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  185 

Eichard' — were  in  the  same  general  social 
set,  and  went  to  much  the  same  entertain 
ments,  and  many  a  night  David  would  stroll 
into  Robin's  room  at  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning  after  a  ball,  with  a  cigar,  to  talk  it 
over.  Occasionally  I  would  make  number 
three.  David  was  prone  to  descant  upon  the 
fine  points  of  the  girls  he  admired  in  much 
the  same  way  as  he  described  with  enthusi 
asm  the  fine  points  of  a  horse.  Eobin  would 
listen  to  him,  and  aid  and  abet  him,  never 
hinting  at  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  in  the 
hope  that  sooner  or  later  the  name  of  Ger 
trude  Delamire  would  be  mentioned.  It 
rarely  was,  unless  Eobin  introduced  it  him 
self,  which  he  sometimes  did  at  the  fag-end 
of  the  evening,  in  a  shy  yet  off-hand  fashion, 
as  though  she  were  to  him  merely  one  of 
fifty,  instead  of  the  bright  particular  angel  of 
his  thoughts  and  dreams.  He  was  sympa 
thetic,  too,  in  the  way  in  which  he  acqui 
esced  in  David's  encomiums,  in  the  hope  of 
wringing  a  favorable  opinion  from  him  in  re 
gard  to  her.  But  David  was  obdurate,  if  he 
understood,  or  more  probably  simply  indiffer 
ent.  When  once  he  was  brought  to  bay  by  a 
direct  question  from  Eobin,  he  answered : 


1SG  RICHARD  AND  ROBIX 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  is  well  enough.  A  pretty 
little  thing,  but  too  thin  for  my  style. 
Compare  her  with  Edith  Harris,  for  in 
stance.  There's  a  neck  and  pair  of  shoulders 
for  you !  I  like  women  with  go,  who  speak 
up." 

"  Yes,"  said  Robin.  The  very  fact  of  hav 
ing  breathed  her  name  aloud  had  brought 
the  color  to  his  cheeks.  He  was  grateful 
for  being  able  to  talk  about  her,  even  though 
the  outcome  was  so  meagre.  "  Miss  Dela- 
mire  looks  better  at  some  times  than  others," 
he  added,  almost  apologetically,  and  he 
blushed  again. 

"  I  dare  say.  Oh,  she's  well  enough,"  re 
sponded  Finn,  carelessly. 

Gertrude  Delamire  was  just  the  sort  of 
girl  whom  a  sensitive  discerning  man  would 
fall  in  love  with.  She  was  as  delicate  as  a 
Sevres  china  cup,  alike  in  physique  and 
thought ;  but  she  possessed  the  delicacy  of 
strength,  not  of  decay.  It  was  natural 
enough  that  David  Finn  should  accuse  her 
of  not  speaking  up,  for  she  was  dainty  in  her 
speech  and  bearing,  and  never  did  the  woo 
ing.  I  remember  well  how  sweet  she  looked 
on  the  afternoon  when  our  bachelor  house 


A.\/> 


was  opened  for  a  tea  that  spring  —  one  of 
Robin's  happy  suggestions,  of  which  even  old 
Dodd  approved.  The  refreshments  were 
served  in  Finn's  room,  but  she  lingered  be 
low  to  examine  a  second  time  the  sketch  from 
the  Gorner  Grat  which  hung  on  Eichard  Ben- 
ton's  wall.  Robin  was  on  the  way  upstairs, 
and  I  heard  Miss  Edith  Harris  exclaim  to 
him,  "  Your  rooms  are  too  lovely  for  any 
thing,  Mr.  Temple,  and  this  is  such  fun," 
which  was  the  same  remark  she  had  made  a 
moment  before  to  me. 

"  Isn't  that  delightful  ?  "  I  said,  addressing 
Miss  Delamire  from  the  doorway.  She 
seemed  to  start  at  my  question,  for  she  had 
apparently  supposed  herself  alone.  "  So  full 
of  poetry  and  feeling,"  I  added. 

"  Oh  yes,"  she  said,  fervently  ;  only  that, 
and  our  eyes  met  ;  but  hers  fell,  and  I  had 
guessed  her  secret.  Robin  Temple  had  won 
her  gentle  heart. 

During  that  spring  David  Finn  and  Robin 
were  much  together,  and  were  often  to  be 
seen  side  by  side  on  the  former's  cart.  I 
said  to  Finn  once,  by  way  of  expressing 
mildly  my  surprise,  though  I  had  to  conceal 
my  disapprobation,  "  What,  if  you'll  excuse 


188  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

an  impudent  question,   is  it    that   you   and 
llobin  Temple  find  in  common  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know,  Uncle  George,"  was  the 
jaunty  answer,  as  though  he  were  announc 
ing  a  discovery,  "  Robin's  not  half  a  bad  lot. 
I  thought  at  first  there  was  a  good  deal  of 
the  sissy  about  him,  but  that's  only  because 
he's  a  little  different  from  the  rest  of  us. 
They  call  it  the  artistic  temperament,  don't 
they  ?  Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  I'd  give  ducats 
if  I  could  tie  a  necktie  as  he  does.  On  my 
word,  clothes  which  he  has  worn  a  year,  and 
bought  ready-made  to  begin  with,  fit  him 
better  than  my  things  from  Poole  fit  me.  If 
he'd  only  get  rid  of  the  idea  that  he  can 
make  his  living  by  painting  pictures,  and 
settle  down  to  something  practical,  I  believe 
he'd  go  ahead  fast.  I've  told  him  so  half  a 
dozen  times.  He  was  a  fool  to  let  that  part 
nership  slip.  Why  don't  you  say  a  word  to 
him,  Dodd,  on  the  same  lay  ?  Somehow  I 
think  he'd  take  it  better  from  you.  Well, 
ta-ta." 

We  had  reached  the  corner  where  our  ways 
separated,  but  I  reached  out  my  hand  and 
detained  him. 

"  See  here,  Finn,"  said  I,  "if  you're  really 


SHE   LINGERED   BELOW   TO   EXAMINE   THE   SKETCH 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  189 

a  friend  of  Robin  Temple's,  you'll  stop  say 
ing  anything  of  the  kind  to  him." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  His  art  is  his  salvation." 

"Art  with  a  capital  A?"  he  asked,  with 
an  amused  grin. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  I  answered, 
coldly.  "  He  has  very  unusual  talent.  It 
may  be  some  time  before  it  is  appreciated  so 
that  he  is  able  to  sell  his  pictures  to  advan 
tage,  but  if  he  perseveres  he  is  not  unlikely, 
in  my  judgment,  to  become  one  of  the  fore 
most  artists  of  the  world."  I  spoke  gravely. 

Finn  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  with  a 
half-quizzical,  half-scornful  air.  I  could  see 
that  he  was  not  convinced. 

"  The  best  thing  for  him  to  do,  then,  is  to 
marry  a  rich  wife,  isn't  it  ?  "  he  asked,  with 
an  effort  to  treat  the  matter  lightly. 

"  I  am  sure,"  I  said,  "  that  Robin  Temple 
will  never  marry  any  woman  for  her  money, 
even  if  it  were  suggested  to  him." 

Finn  was  not  an  easy  man  to  offend,  and 
my  rudeness  seemed  merely  to  imply  to  him 
a  lack  of  humor  on  my  part.  He  put  out  his 
hand,  and  patting  me  patronizingly  on  the 
shoulder,  said,  with 'a  knowing  laugh:  "It 


190  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

isn't  out  of  the  bounds  of  possibility,  is  it, 
Uncle  George,  that  a  man  might  be  in  love 
with  two  women  at  the  same  time,  and  be 
influenced  in  his  final  choice  by  the  fact  that 
one  had  money  and  the  other  was  poor  as 
a  church  mouse  ?  If  he  were  to  marry  the 
rich  one,  could  anyone  say  that  he  was  mar 
rying  her  for  her  money  ?  Now  think  that 
over,  Uncle  George,  when  you've  nothing  to 
do,  and  let  me  know,"  he  added  with  a  buoy 
ant  chuckle,  and  strode  away. 

Eobin's  first  exhibition  was  in  the  follow 
ing  October.  He  displayed  twelve  pictures 
in  the  gallery  of  a  prominent  dealer.  It  was 
on  the  second  day  that  Richard  burst  into 
my  room  bubbling  over  with  the  announce 
ment  that  two  had  already  been  sold,  in  addi 
tion  to  the  one  which  he  himself  had  picked 
out  to  own.  "  The  critics  are  with  us,  too," 
he  added.  "  There  was  a  first-rate  notice  in 
this  morning's  Despatch  ;  and  Brummel,  who 
usually  tries  to  crush  the  life  out  of  begin 
ners,  happened  in  while  I  was  there,  and  vol 
unteered  to  tell  me  that  he  should  give  them 
a  send-off  in  the  Mercury" 

I  was  not  able  to  pay  my  respects  to  the 
exhibition  until  the  following  day.  I  had 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  191 

seen  most  of  the  pictures  in  process  of  com 
position,  so  that  I  had  a  general  idea  of  their 
excellence,  but  as  I  viewed  them  completed 
and  as  a  whole,  I  was  even  more  pleased 
than  I  had  expected  to  be.  I  chose  a  bright 
landscape — a  bit  of  woodland  and  river — 
which  seemed  to  me  thoroughly  spirited. 
On  leaving  the  exhibition  gallery  one  had  to 
pass  into  the  main  store,  and  as  I  dallied  for 
a  moment  to  examine  the  dealer's  treasures, 
Miss  Gertrude  Delamire  came  in  from  the 
street,  without  noticing  me,  I  think.  She 
hesitated  an  instant,  then  made  some  in 
quiries  about  a  frame  in  what  seemed  to  me 
a  timid,  abashed  manner.  I  pretended  to  be 
very  busy  admiring  the  lines  of  one  of 
Barye's  lions,  and  slipped  out  presently  into 
the  street  without  obtruding  my  personality 
on  her  maiden  fancy. 

The  exhibition  lasted  ten  days,  and  of  the 
twelve  pictures  six  were  sold  ;  three  of  them 
to  people  unknown  to  Robin.  Eight  hun 
dred  dollars,  less  the  dealer's  commission, 
was  the  net  return,  which  seemed  to  our 
young  artist  a  prosperous  beginning.  He 
informed  Finn  of  his  good  fortune  on  the 
evening  after  the  exhibition  closed,  as  they 


192  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

sat  smoking  in  my  room.  I  think  Eobin 
was  a  little  nettled  that  David  had  not  taken 
the  trouble  to  look  in  during  the  ten  days, 
for  though  he  said  nothing  definite,  there 
was  a  slight  tremor  of  reproach  in  the  tone 
in  which  he  remarked, 

"I  took  in  eight  hundred  dollars  clean 
money,  and  sold  half  my  pictures." 

The  idea  that  he  had  been  remiss  was  evi 
dently  in  Finn's  mind  too,  for  he  said,  pres 
ently  :  "  The  market  has  been  feverish  this 
week,  and  I've  been  busy.  I  meant  to  have 
a  squint  at  them,  Eobin,  but  somehow  the 
time  passed,  and  I  didn't  get  round  to  it." 

"  That's  all  right,"  replied  Kobin.  "  You've 
seen  most  of  them  first  or  last  lying  about 
my  room.1' 

David  said  nothing  for  a  moment.  An 
idea  had  occurred  to  him,  and  presently  he 
gave  us  the  benefit  of  it.  "I  suppose,  Eob 
in,  you'd  be  ready  to  sell  the  other  six  for 
the  same  amount  of  money  ?  Well,  now,  I 
tell  you  what :  I'll  match  you  heads  or  tails 
to  see  whether  they  belong  to  me,  or  I  pay 
you  another  eight  hundred  dollars.  Pictures 
are  not  much  in  my  line,  barring  the  great 
masters,  but  Uncle  George  here  says  you 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  193 

may  be  a  big  bug  one  of  these  days,  and  if 
so,  I  shall  be  getting  in  on  the  ground-floor. 
Is  it  a  gamble  ?  " 

I  could  have  shaken  Finn,  though  I  dare 
say  he  imagined  that  he  was  making  a  gener 
ous  proposal. 

Robin  flushed  at  first  at  the  careless  words 
and  bantering  tone,  but  I  could  see  that  on 
second  thought  he  was  fascinated.  He  glanced 
at  me  as  though  for  my  approval. 

"  This  isn't  the  Stock  Exchange,  Finn,"  I 
exclaimed. 

"  No  ;  but  I've  made  a  square  offer,  which 
I'm  ready  to  stand  by." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  said  Kobin,  suddenly. 

"  Very  well.  Uncle  George,  will  you 
manipulate  the  coin?  You  may  name  it, 
Kobin." 

I  drew  reluctantly  from  my  pocket  the 
necessary  half-dollar,  and  spun  it  into  the 
air.  Robin  won. 

Finn  instantly  took  out  his  pocket-book. 
"  I'll  draw  you  a  check  now,"  he  said,  and 
he  was  proceeding  to  do  so,  when  he  sud 
denly  laid  down  the  pen.  "  What  do  you 
say,  Robin,  to  my  buying  you  a  hundred 
shares  of  Atchison  with  this  ?  It's  going  up. 
13 


194  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

I'd  almost  be  willing  to  guarantee  yon  against 
loss." 

Kobin's  eyes  gleamed  furtively.  "  I  don't 
know  anything  about  such  things.  How 
much  would  I  make  ?  " 

"  If  I  put  it  up  as  a  margin  you  ought  to 
make  another  thousand  beside  the  eight  hun 
dred." 

"  Or  lose  the  eight  hundred,"  I  interjected. 

This  must  have  piqued  Finn,  for  he  re 
torted,  boldly  :  "  Come,  now,  I'd  like  to  see 
you  make  some  money.  I  will  guarantee 
you  against  loss.  And  you  too,  Uncle 
George,  if  you'd  like  to  take  a  flier." 

"  Thanks — no ;  I  never  speculate,"  I  an 
swered. 

Robin  looked  at  us  both.  "  I'd  be  glad  to 
make  some  money,  if  you  can  make  it  for 
me,"  he  replied,  eagerly. 

"Enough  said,"  said  Finn. 

When  another  autumn  came  round  Kobin 
had  a  new  lot  of  pictures  to  exhibit.  Again 
the  critics  were  highly  complimentary,  though 
not  so  unreservedly  so  as  on  the  first  occa 
sion.  They  asserted  the  critic's  prerogative 
to  point  out  what  they  thought  the  strong 
and  weak  points  in  his  art.  They  evidently 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  195 

regarded  him  no  longer  as  a  beginner,  but  an 
artist  of  recognized  standing.  Seven  pictures 
out  of  sixteen  were  sold,  at  a  slight  advance 
in  price.  Both  to  Richard  Benton  and  to 
me  this  result  seemed  very  satisfactory  ;  and 
we  felt  that  Robin  had  made  progress — that 
his  fancy  was  bolder  and  his  technique  more 
perfect.  During  this  time  his  attentions  to 
Miss  Delamire  had  become  conspicuous,  and 
I  knew  from  various  enigmatic  speeches 
which  he  let  fall  from  month  to  month  that 
he  was  anxious  to  marry  her.  He  was,  com 
paratively  speaking,  in  funds  at  this  time,  for 
Finn  had  sent  him  a  check  for  eighteen  hun 
dred  dollars  in  less  than  six  weeks  from  the 
time  of  their  conversation.  I  fancy  that 
Robin  made  use  of  much  of  this  for  flowers 
for  Miss  Delamire,  and  in  trying  to  keep 
pace  with  her  other  admirers  in  the  gay 
world.  I  could  see  that  he  was  restless,  and 
he  became  more  so  after  David  Finn's  en 
gagement  to  Miss  Edith  Harris  was  an 
nounced,  and  that  prosperous  couple  were 
to  be  seen  daily  on  a  brand-new  black  and 
yellow  cart  behind  the  well-groomed  cob. 

"  Confound  it  all,  Dodd,"  said  he  to  me 
one  evening,  "  how  is  an  artist  to  marry  ?  " 


196  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

"  On  nothing,"  I  answered,  promptly. 

I  felt  sure  that  though  lie  had  heard  me 
rail  at  times  against  improvident  marriages, 
and  the  cruelty  of  bringing  children  into  the 
world  to  struggle  with  well-bred  poverty,  he 
would  not  misunderstand  me.  I  knew  that 
the  vision  of  Miss  Edith  Harris  in  perpetu 
ally  superb  attire,  with  a  mass  of  roses  at 
her  waist,  and  mistress  of  a  magnificent  es 
tablishment,  haunted  his  mind's  eye,  and 
would  not  down  at  the  bidding.  He  turned 
the  conversation,  and  studied  the  fire  almost 
in  silence  for  an  hour  after ;  but  when  he 
rose  at  last  to  leave  me  he  pressed  my  hand 
and  said  : 

"  I'm  going  to  make  a  new  departure.  I'm 
going  to  paint  a  face — an  ideal,  not  a  por 
trait.  It  will  be  the  best  thing  I  have  done. 
The  old  masters  did  Madonnas  of  the  skies, 
but  the  world  of  to-day  is  inspired  by  noble 
earthly  women." 

Finn  was  married  in  the  spring,  and  our 
house  knew  him  no  more.  He  had  built 
himself  an  elaborate  house  in  town,  another 
at  the  seaside,  and  was  apparently  on  the 
top  of  the  wave.  I  was  secretly  delighted  at 
his  exodus,  for  I  felt  convinced  that  Robin 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  197 

would  be  able  to  work  less  interruptedly. 
My  astonishment  and  consternation,  there 
fore,  were  great  when,  the  following  autumn, 
about  the  time  another  exhibition  by  Robin 
was  due,  Richard  Benton  came  into  my  room 
one  evening  and  said  : 

"  Temple  is  going  into  business.  The  cof 
fee  business,"  he  added,  in  response  to  my 
ejaculations  of  dismay.  "  His  brother  has 
given  him  another  chance,  as  he  calls  it,  and 
he  has  accepted  it.  I  have  been  talking 
with  him  for  two  hours,  but  he  is  adamant. 
He  says  he  wishes  to  be  married,  and  that 
he  must  make  money.  I  reasoned  with  him, 
but  it  was  of  no  use.  He  says  he  will  be 
able  to  paint  in  his  leisure  moments  and  va 
cations.  You'  know  what  that  means.  He 
has  fallen  down  and  worshipped  the  golden 
calf.  The  devil  take  that  fellow  Finn  and  all 
his  tribe ! " 

"  Amen !  "  I  muttered. 

"  He  is  throwing  himself  away.  There  is 
not  one  man  in  a  million  with  his  talent,  and 
he  is  going  into  the  coffee  business.  Pshaw ! 
Robin,  Robin,  you  have  played  us  false !  " 

High  as  my  opinion  was  of  Richard  Ben- 
ton,  the  fervor  of  his  disappointment  was  a 


198  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

surprise  to  me.  I  did  not  insult  his  manly 
intelligence  by  pretending  to  palliate  the 
rnaUer.  "We  turned  it  over  in  every  light, 
and  I  promised  to  see  Robin  on  the  morrow 
and  add  my  remonstrances  to  those  of  his 
best  friend,  though  I  felt  convinced  that  they 
would  be  made  in  vain. 

Eobin  evidently  expected  me.  He  was 
standing  on  the  hearth-rug,  and  when  he  saw 
who  his  visitor  was,  his  expression  indicated 
a  harassed  soul  at  bay.  He  did  not  suggest 
my  sitting  down,  and  when  I  had  established 
myself  nonchalantly  in  an  arm-chair  and 
lighted  a  pipe,  he  said,  with  nervous  deci 
siveness  : 

"  I  know  why  you  have  come,  Uncle  George. 
But  it's  of  no  use.  I've  made  up  my  mind, 
and  nothing  anyone  can  say  will  change  it." 

Accordingly  I  talked  of  other  things,  and 
presently,  with  the  familiarity  of  one  accus 
tomed  to  take  liberties  there,  I  strolled  over 
to  his  easel  and  lifted  the  covering.  A  face 
looked  back  at  me — a  face  only  half  com 
pleted,  and  yet  already  so  excellent,  so  orig 
inal  in  conception  and  treatment,  that  I 
stepped  back  eagerly  to  scan  it.  A  woman's 
face.  Where  had  I  seen  it?  Yet  the  cos- 


A   FACE   LOOKED   BACK    AT   ME 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  199 

tume  and  surroundings  indicated  that  it  was 
a  study  in  fancy  rather  than  a  portrait. 
Then  I  recalled  our  conversation  of  six 
months  before,  and  understood.  But  the 
likeness  ?  There  was  no  likeness,  after  all ; 
but  I  understood,  too,  whose  face  had  served 
as  an  inspiration  to  the  artist. 

"  Eobin,"  I  exclaimed,  earnestly,  "  this  is 
superb.  It  far  surpasses  anything  you  have 
done  before." 

He  smiled  coldly.  "  Thanks.  I  am  glad 
you  like  it.  I  shall  try  to  finish  it  some  day." 
Then  he  walked  up  to  the  easel  and  replaced 
the  covering. 

I  appreciated  the  definiteness  of  the  hint, 
but  I  could  not  restrain  myself. 

"  Robin,"  I  said,  "  how  will  the  woman 
whose  soul  looks  from  those  eyes  like  what 
you  are  doing  ?  " 

He  started  as  though  I  had  struck  him — 
and,  indeed,  it  was  an  impertinence  ;  but  are 
not  the  wounds  of  friendship  faithful  ? — and 
the  blood  surged  to  his  face.  He  stared  at 
me  haughtily. 

"  I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean,"  he 
said.  "  What  right  have  you  to  pry  into  my 
affairs?" 


200  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

"  Only  because  I  love  you,  Kobin,"  I  said, 
gently,  and  left  him. 

There  was  from  this  time  a  coolness,  almost 
a  breach,  between  us,  though  we  still  paid 
occasional  visits  to  each  other's  rooms,  and 
preserved  the  outward  show  of  amity.  Robin 
went  into  business,  and  a  year  and  a  half 
slipped  away  without  any  apparent  change  in 
his  or  my  circumstances.  He  came  and  went 
like  any  young  man  who  is  occupied  down 
town,  and  as  our  intimacy  had  been  inter 
rupted,  he  was  mute  in  my  presence  as  to  his 
private  affairs.  I  understood,  however,  that 
he  was  early  and  late  at  the  office. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  second  spring 
after  Kobin  abandoned  art  that  I  went  abroad, 
in  consequence  of  the  demolition  of  our  lodg 
ing-house,  preparatory  to  the  erection  of  the 
imposing  Rexford.  Like  the  very  rats,  forced 
after  a  long  and  fond  occupation  to  seek 
shelter  elsewhere,  we  fled  right  and  left,  ac 
cording  to  our  moods  and  necessities.  Rich 
ard  and  Eobin  sought  a  haven  in  one  of  the 
other  bachelor  warrens  in  the  same  neighbor 
hood,  and  I  stored  my  penates,  packed  my 
portmanteau,  and  took  the  first  steamer  to 
Europe.  There  I  remained  two  years — a  lit- 


RICHARD  ANJ)  ROBIN  201 

tie  longer,  in  fact,  for  I  did  not  return  until 
the  snow  was  on  the  ground,  and  the  plaster 
of  the  Rexford  was  thoroughly  dry,  and  its 
modern  improvements  in  complete  working 
order.  I  had  arranged  to  have  my  penates 
re-established  in  my  new  quarters,  so  that  I 
might  walk  in  on  a  furnished  apartment  al 
most  as  though  I  had  not  been  away.  I  ar 
rived  late  in  the  evening,  to  find  a  fire  on  the 
hearth,  a  bit  of  supper  on  the  table,  and  the 
evening  Mercury  at  my  elbow.  Being  fresh 
from  the  steamer,  I  was  in  arrears  regarding 
events,  and  after  my  appetite  was  satisfied  I 
was  soon  deep  in  local  news.  I  turned  first 
to  the  financial  page  to  ascertain  the  stand 
ing  of  my  few  securities.  Somehow  it  com 
forts  or  depresses  a  man,  as  the  case  may  be, 
to  know  that  the  stock  he  owns  is  five  points 
higher  or  lower,  though  he  has  not  the  least 
idea  of  selling  it  in  either  event.  Specula 
tion  was  running  riot,  it  seemed  to  me,  and 
the  rumors  of  the  day  prophesied  that  the 
advance  had  only  just  begun.  Having  ascer 
tained  that  I  was  considerably  richer  on  paper, 
I  turned  to  the  marriages  and  deaths,  and  as 
I  read,  I  stopped  to  read  again,  struck  with 
horror : 


202  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

"  In  this  city,  on  December  the  6th,  Rob 
ert  Temple,  in  the  thirtieth  year  of  his  age. 
Funeral  at  St.  Mark's  Church,  on  Tuesday, 
December  10th,  at  one  o'clock." 

Robin  Temple  dead,  and  his  funeral  to 
morrow  !  I  pressed  the  electric  button,  and 
the  new  janitor,  who  had  served  my  supper, 
appeared.  "  I  see  the  announcement  of  Mr. 
Robert  Temple's  death  ?  "  I  said,  interroga 
tively. 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  died  day  before  yesterday, 
of  pneumonia,  and  he's  to  be  buried  to-mor 
row.  He  had  rooms  here,  sir." 

I  had  not  known,  though  I  had  supposed 
it  might  be  so.  "  Here,  in  this  apartment- 
house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  thought  of  speaking  about 
it,  but  I  wasn't  sure  you  knew  him,  and  I 
wouldn't  mention  it  until  you'd  had  your 
supper." 

"  Thank  you,  Perkins,"  I  said,  to  acknowl 
edge  consideration  so  unusual.  "  Yes,  I 
knew  him  well.  Of  pneumonia  ?  " 

"  He  was  taken  ill  a  week  ago  Sunday,  sir ; 
and  there  were  three  doctors  at  the  last,  and 
Mr.  Benton,  besides  the  nurse,  was  with  him 
night  and  day,"  added  Perkins,  witli  the  flu- 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  203 

ency  of  one  who  feels  that  he  is  free  at  last 
to  tell  all  he  knows. 

"  Mr.  Kichard  Benton  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  He  came  in  just  before  you 
rang.  He's  grieving  sadly,  sir." 

"  Please  go  and  tell  Mr.  Benton  that  I  am 
coming  down  to  see  him." 

Five  minutes  later  I  stood  with  Kichard 
beside  the  open  coffin  and  looked  at  our 
friend  as  he  lay  in  the  sleep  of  death.  The 
fell  disease  had  left  few  traces,  and  even 
the  unconquerable  enemy  had  laid  only  the 
seal  of  marble-like  pallor  upon  the  likeness 
of  our  Kobin.  The  poet -like  eyes  were 
closed,  but  the  dainty  features,  the  delicate 
contour  of  brow  and  lip  and  chin,  were  still 
the  same.  He  was  there,  yet  he  was  gone — 
gone  to  the  land  of  mystery,  from  which  none 
return  to  tell  of  the  mercies  of  God's  judg 
ment-seat. 

As  I  looked  around  me  presently,  when  I 
had  turned  away  from  the  coffin,  I  noticed 
that  the  new  rooms,  into  which  he  had  moved 
only  two  months  before,  were  exquisitely  fur 
nished  ;  but  there  was  only  a  single  sugges 
tion  of  the  artist's  craft — an  easel  in  one  cor 
ner,  over  which  an  Eastern  cloth  had  been 


204  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

thrown.  Somehow  I  divined  what  was  be 
neath,  and,  impelled  by  the  desire  to  ascer 
tain,  I  crossed  the  room  and  raised  the  cov 
ering.  The  same  face,  fixed  by  a  master's 
hand,  yet  unfinished  and  unaltered,  looked 
out  at  me  from  the  canvas.  Apparently  he 
had  never  touched  it  with  his  brush  since 
our  interview  two  years  before. 

I  heard  from  Richard's  lips  that  night  all 
that  he  knew.  "  He  worked  like  a  slave, 
Dodd ;  down  early  and  up  late.  About  a 
year  ago  his  brother  died,  and  the  other  part 
ner  was  called  to  California  by  the  illness 
of  his  wife,  and  Robin's  opportunity,  as  he 
thought,  had  come.  The  coffee  market  was 
depressed,  unduly  so,  and  he  bought,  and 
bought  again,  borrowing  heavily.  He  was 
right.  In  ninety  days  the  tide  had  turned, 
and  he  had  made  over  two  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  He  told  me  this  four  months  ago, 
and  he  has  died  rich,  for  so  young  a  man. 
He  seemed  exultantly  happy,  and  his  man 
ner  of  living  changed  at  once.  He  bought 
a  stylish  turn-out,  and  he  fitted  up  these 
rooms ;  though  he  said  to  me,  poor  fellow, 
with  a  knowing  smile,  the  day  he  moved  into 
them,  '  I  may  not  need  them  very  long.'  Ten 


RICHARD  AND  RODIN  205 

days  ago  I  was  sitting  in  my  room  late.  It 
was  a  brutal  night  —  cold,  with  a  piercing 
wind,  and  the  streets  a  glare  of  frozen  sleet. 
I  had  been  beguiled  into  sitting  up — it  was 
nearly  two  —  by  a  new  book,  which  I  had 
just  finished,  when  there  came  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  Kobin  staggered  in  ;  it  was  just 
that — staggered.  He  was  pale  and  distract 
ed-looking.  His  overcoat— not  a  heavy  one 
—  was  unbuttoned,  and  his  evening  dress 
awry,  as  though  blown  by  the  wind.  He 
sank  into  a  chair  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands.  *  My  God,  Eobin,  what  is  the 
matter  ?  '  I  asked.  He  looked  up  at  me  with 
an  expression  of  agony  I  shall  never  forget, 
and  answered,  in  a  piteous  voice,  '  She  has 
refused  me,  Kichard,  and  my  heart  is  broken.' 
It  seems  he  had  been  walking  the  streets  in 
that  guise  for  hours.  I  watched  over  him 
that  night.  He  was  ill  already,  and  the  next 
morning  he  was  in  a  high  fever.  We  did  all 
we  could,  but  he  died  day  before  yesterday." 
The  following  afternoon  we  laid  Robin's 
body  in  the  grave.  It  was  a  brilliant  win 
ter's  day.  The  landscape  revealed,  even  to 
the  common  eye,  the  subtle  hues  which  ar 
tists  love.  Richard  and  I  drove  back  from 


206  RICHARD  AND  RODIN 

the  cemetery  together.  He  had  been  silent 
for  a  time,  but  as*  we  were  nearing  home  he 
suddenly  said  :  "  How  little  money  can  avail, 
after  all !  I  am  worth  to-day  half  a  million 
dollars,  Dodd.  How  gladly  would  I  give 
Eobin  the  half  of  it — which  is  what  he  will 
leave  behind  him — if  one  could  wipe  out  the 
last  five  years,  and  put  him  back  at  his  easel 
just  as  he  once  was !  But  that  is  all  over 
and  past  forever." 

It  was  not  quite  so.  As  I  have  stated, 
those  were  days  of  rampant  speculation.  But, 
as  is  apt  to  be  the  case,  the  crash  came  sud 
denly  and  without  apparent  warning.  Many 
went  to  the  wall,  and  rumor,  \vhich  had 
whispered  a  month  ago  that  the  advance  had 
only  just  begun,  now  prophesied  that  there 
would  be  worse  failures  after  the  first  of  the 
year.  It  was  on  Christmas-eve,  I  remember, 
that  I  went  down  to  Richard  Benton's  room 
and  found  David  Finn  there.  My  visit  was 
purely  a  casual  one.  Perhaps  the  cockles  of 
my  heart  were  oppressed  with  the  sense  of 
loneliness  which  an  old  bachelor  is  apt  to  ex 
perience  at  this  season.  As  I  entered  I  per 
ceived  from  their  faces  that  I  had  interrupted 
the  discussion  of  some  serious  matter,  and 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  207 

was  closing  the  door,  when  I  was  restrained 
by  Richard's  voice  saying,  "  Come  back, 
Dodd  ;  you  shall  be  the  judge." 

I  turned  back  in  response  to  this  sum 
mons,  wondering,  and  Richard  waved  me  to 
a  seat.  Finn  was  standing,  with  his  back  to 
the  fireplace.  I  noticed,  in  the  few  moments 
of  silence  which  followed,  that  he  looked 
worried,  though  his  old  air  of  confidence  had 
not  forsaken  him. 

"  Dodd,"  said  Richard  again,  "  you  shall 
be  the  judge  between  us."  Then  he  ad 
dressed  Finn  :  "  You  have  come  to  me  to 
night  and  told  me  that  you  are  in  trouble. 
You  have  asked  me,  as  a  director  of  the  bank 
where  your  largest  loans  are  placed,  to  con 
sent  to  their  renewal,  and  I  have  told  you 
that  I  cannot.  My  duty  as  an  officer  forbids 
that ;  we  cannot  take  the  risk.  I  told  you 
this,  and  you  have  just  asked  me  to  help  you 
as  an  individual.  I  might  do  so  if  I  chose. 
I  have  some  means,  and  I  could  tide  you 
over ;  and  coming  as  you  do  at  this  Christ 
mas-time,  I  would  tide  you  over  but  for  one 
thing,  and  Uncle  George  here  shall  decide  if 
I  am  not  right.  If  he  says  that  I  am  unjust, 
my  credit  shall  be  at  your  disposal." 


208  RICHARD  AND  ROBIN 

For  an  instant  he  paused,  and  I  could  see 
that  Finn  was  groping  for  the  reason.  He 
had  no  inkling  of  it,  though  I  felt  sure  that 
I  knew. 

"  But  for  you  and  men  like  you,  my  friend 
Eobin  Temple  would  not  be  in  his  grave. 
You  and  your  example  fascinated  him  until 
he  prostituted  the  noble  gift  which  God  had 
given  him.  Day  in,  day  out,  he  heard  you 
sneer  at  everything  which  did  not  stand  for 
money  and  the  coarse  or  showy  gratifications 
which  mere  money  can  purchase.  He  learned 
from  you  to  sacrifice  everything  for  that,  and 
awoke  at  last  to  know  the  agony  and  bitter 
ness  of  his  delusion.  It  killed  him.  He 
was  my  dearest  friend.  You  have  asked  me 
to  help  you.  My  answer  is,  I  refuse  you  in 
the  name  of  Eobin  Temple.  Let  Dodd,  who 
knows  the  truth,  judge  between  us." 

In  spite  of  the  death-blow  which  these 
words  gave  to  Finn's  hopes,  and  though  he 
winced  a  little,  a  smile  curved  his  lip,  recall 
ing  vividly  his  look  on  the  day  when  he  had 
queried,  in  answer  to  my  declaration  that 
Eobin's  art  was  his  salvation,  "  Art  with  a 
capital  A  ?  "  The  same  flippant,  cruel  smile, 
as  though  the  speech  had  amused  him  by  its 


RICHARD  AND  ROBIN  209 

somewhat  dramatic  intensity.  Then,  as  I 
looked  at  him,  there  came  into  my  mind  the 
words  of  the  Psalmist — "  The  fool  hath  said 
in  his  heart,  There  is  no  God." 

"  Finn,"  I  said,  "  my  judgment  is  that 
Kichard  is  right." 

"  Oh,  very  well.  This  is  absurd,"  said 
Finn.  "  I  am  no  more  responsible  for  the 
death  of  Robin  Temple  than  either  one  of 
you."  There  was  a  brief  silence,  during  which 
he  made  his  preparations  for  departure.  "  It 
strikes  me,"  he  added,  bitterly,  as  he  but 
toned  his  overcoat,  "  that  you  have  scarcely 
looked  at  this  matter  in  a  business-like  man 
ner." 

"  No,"  said  Richard,  quietly.  "  It  is  pure 
ly  a  matter  of  sentiment." 

Ten  days  later — just  after  the  1st  of  Janu 
ary — the  suspension  of  David  Finn  &  Com 
pany,  bankers  and  brokers,  was  announced 
in  the  newspapers  in  startling  head-lines, 
and  before  another  eighteen  months  had 
passed  I  acted  as  best  man  to  Richard  Ben- 
ton  on  the  occasion  of  his  marriage  to  Ger 
trude  Delamire. 


14 


THE  MATRIMONIAL  TONTINE 
BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION 


THE   MATRIMONIAL  TONTINE 
BENEFIT   ASSOCIATION 

THE  Matrimonial  Tontine  Mutual  Bene 
fit  Association  of  New  York  was  re 
duced  to  two  members.  These  were  Benja 
min  Davis,  note  broker,  and  Horace  Wilson, 
landscape  gardener.  The  rest  were  married 
or  buried.  That  is  to  say,  one  member,  poor 
Thomas  Cook,  was  under  the  sod,  and  the 
other  twelve  were  Benedicks  in  good  stand 
ing.  There  had  not  been  even  a  divorce, 
though  divorce  was  not  a  contingency  pro 
vided  for  in  the  constitution. 

The  Association  was  twelve  years  old,  and 
owed  its  existence  to  a  random  remark  made 
by  Harry  Stephenson  at  a  dinner  at  the 
club. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  he,  "  which  of  us  fellows 
will  marry  first." 

"  Or  last,"  said  Ben  Davis. 

"  Or  not  at  all,"  said  Horace  Wilson. 


214       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

There  was  some  lively  banter  on  the  sub 
ject,  chiefly  to  the  effect  that  marriage  as  an 
institution  was  decaying,  and  that  no  one  but 
a  Croesus  could  afford  to  take  a  wife,  and 
presently  George  Edmunds,  who  had  been 
smoking  reflectively,  drew  general  attention 
to  himself  by  rapping  on  the  table. 

"  I  have  a  scheme  to  propose,"  he  said. 

George  Edmunds  was  known  to  have  a 
nimble  fancy  and  to  be  a  practical  individual 
into  the  bargain.  He  was  a  writer  of  fic 
tion,  but  he  had  invented  in  his  spare 
moments  a  patent  corkscrew  and  a  patent 
potato-peeler  which  brought  him  in  a  round 
sum  annually.  Consequently  any  scheme  of 
his  suggestion  was  sure  to  be  listened  to  re 
spectfully. 

"  There  are  fifteen  of  us  here  to-night,"  he 
continued,  "  and  there  can't  be  a  difference  of 
two  years  between  the  eldest  and  the  young 
est.  Why  shouldn't  we  form  a  Bachelors' 
Protective  Union  ?  " 

He  paused  and  looked  round  the  room  in 
quiringly.  Several  smiled  as  though  the 
idea  pleased  them ;  but  evidently  no  one 
knew  exactly  what  George  meant ;  and  by 
way  of  inviting  elucidation,  Ben  Davis,  who 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  215 

probably  had  the  potato-peeler  in  mind, 
asked  : 

"  Where's  the  chance  for  making  an  honest 
dollar  this  time  ?  " 

"  I'll  show  you,"  replied  George.  "  Fif 
teen  members  at  an  annual  assessment  of 
twenty-five  dollars  apiece  will  insure  a  din 
ner  on  the  first  of  every  January  for  the 
party,  and  leave  a  neat  little  annual  sum  to  be 
invested  by  the  treasurer.  The  last  man  who 
holds  out  against  the  enemy  takes  the  pool. 
If  the  fund  is  skilfully  handled,  and  we  hold 
out  as  rigorously  as  we  talk,  he  ought  to 
carry  off  a  tidy  sum." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  approval  and 
amusement. 

"  It's  a  pious  plan,"  exclaimed  Stephenson. 
"  Let's  put  it  through." 

"  We  will,"  said  several  others. 

"  But  suppose  there  never  should  be  a  last 
man?  There  might  be  several,  you  know, 
who  would  hold  out  to  the  end,"  said  Ben 
Davis.  "  There  should  be  a  time  limit  when 
the  survivors  divide." 

This  seemed  sensible,  and  it  was  subse 
quently  agreed  that  at  the  end  of  twenty  years 
the  pool  should  be  apportioned  in  case  there 


216       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

should  be  more  than  a  single  bachelor  re 
maining. 

Before  midnight  on  that  very  evening  the 
articles  of  association  were  drawn  up  by  the 
flowing  pen  of  George  Edmunds,  and  read  to 
the  assembled  company.  There  was  a  pre 
amble  with  a  formidable  Whereas.  "  Where 
as  we,  the  undersigned  bachelors,  have  this 
day  entered  into  a  solemn  compact  for  the 
mutual  protection  of  our  liberties  against  the 
institution  of  marriage,  etc.,  etc."  Then  fol 
lowed  a  solemn  bond  wherein  The  Matrimo 
nial  Tontine  Mutual  Benefit  Association  of 
New  York  bound  itself,  in  consideration  of 
certain  covenants  and  agreements  of  each 
subscriber,  to  furnish  a  dinner  of  reasonable 
richness  as  to  food,  and  abundance  as  to  drink, 
on  the  first  day  of  each  and  every  year,  and 
to  pay  over  to  the  individual  or  individuals 
who  should  be  most  faithful  to  the  purposes 
of  the  Association  the  total  net  capital  ac 
cumulated  from  the  time  of  the  first  payment 
down  to  the  date  of  the  final  settlement. 

Everybody  signed  that  night,  and  there 
was  much  flamboyant  protestation  on  the  sub 
ject  of  matrimony.  To  judge  merely  from 
the  expressed  views  of  the  subscribers,  it 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  217 

seemed  probable  that  the  pool  would  be  di 
vided  among  the  fifteen  members  at  the  end 
of  the  twenty  years.  The  average  age  of  the 
subscribers  was  twenty-five.  No  one  was 
over  twenty-six  or  under  twenty-four.  Con 
sequently  the  limit  of  twenty  years  appeared 
to  be  a  reasonable  one.  Surely  a  bachelor 
of  forty-five  ought  to  be  able  to  take  care  of 
himself,  and  do  without  the  protection  of  a 
Bachelors'  Union. 

The  subscribers,  having  duly  affixed  their 
signatures  to  the  articles  of  association, 
elected,  as  seemed  fitting,  George  Edmunds 
president,  secretary,  and  treasurer.  It  would 
be  his  duty  to  call  the  members  together  on 
the  occasion  of  the  annual  dinner,  to  note 
and  report  failures  to  pay  the  annual  dues  or 
fallings  from  grace  into  matrimony,  to  exer 
cise  general  supervision  over  the  affairs  of 
the  Association,  and  particular  supervision 
over  the  net  fund.  He  was  given,  by  the  oral 
instructions  of  the  members,  plenary  and  yet 
peculiar  and  sleep-haunting  powers  as  to  the 
management  of  this  fund.  No  gilt-edged 
conventional  investment  returning  regular, 
modest  interest  would  satisfy  the  winner  of 
the  pool.  The  treasurer  would  be  expected 


218       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

to  hit  upon  something  extraordinary  in  its 
dividend-yielding  character.  If  not  another 
potato-peeler,  something  equally  bonanza- 
like  and  gratifying.  And  yet  no  risks  must 
be  run  which  would  hazard  the  integrity  of 
the  principal.  Something  safe  yet  uncon 
ventional,  perfectly  secure  but  splendidly 
lucrative,  would  be  expected  from  him. 
George  would  understand  what  they  meant 
and  act  accordingly,  and  doubtless  the  event 
ual  winner  of  the  pool  would  have  every  rea 
son  to  approve  of  their  selection  of  a  treasurer. 
Whether  it  be  that  much  of  the  talk  this 
evening  was  on  the  surface  and  merely  for 
effect  or  bravado,  or  whether  it  be  that  the 
masculine  heart  may  contain  matrimonial 
germs  without  being  conscious  of  them,  no 
less  than  four  of  the  fifteen  subscribers  ceased 
to  be  members  of  the  Association  after  pay 
ing  but  two  annual  assessments — that  is  to 
say,  they  became  engaged  in  the  course  of 
the  second  year.  A  summer  girl  at  Narra- 
gansett  Pier  caused  the  first  break,  which 
was  the  occasion  of  an  extra  dinner  and  much 
oratory  as  to  the  necessity  of  caution  and 
steadfastness.  Within  the  three  ensuing 
months,  thereby  suggesting  that  the  deserters 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  219 

probably  had  matrimony  in  their  minds  at 
the  time  these  speeches  of  exhortation  were 
being  made,  a  second,  third,  and  fourth  fell 
victims  to  a  widow  with  two  children,  a 
flaxen-haired  doll,  and  a  strong-minded  bru 
nette,  respectively.  So  the  women  in  ques 
tion  were  stigmatized  by  the  remaining  mem 
bers,  who  closed  up  their  serried  ranks  and 
looked  askance  at  one  another.  Who  would 
be  the  next  to  fall?  Who,  indeed!  But 
there  was  always  the  consolation  that  the  in 
dividual  chances  of  the  survivors  to  win  the 
pool  had  been  materially  enhanced.  As  for 
the  pool  itself,  the  treasurer  had  already 
doubled  it  by  a  happy  purchase  of  some 
shares  in  a  gold  mine. 

During  the  next  two  years  there  was  no 
lapse  from  grace,  and  simply  the  death  of 
Tom  Cook  to  chronicle.  Then,  without 
warning,  Harry  Stephenson  came  a  fearful 
cropper,  as  they  say  in  the  hunting-field. 
He  fell  over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  a 
very  plain  girl  in  Harlem,  without  a  penny 
to  her  name,  and  married  her.  This  made  a 
frightful  gap,  for  Harry  had  been  one  of  the 
most  inspiring  and  virulent  bachelors  of  the 
Association.  What  was  more,  his  defection 


220       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

seemed  to  knock  the  moral  fortitude  out  of 
William  Hardy,  so  that  when  the  fifth  annu 
al  dinner  came  round,  only  eight  members 
clinked  their  glasses  and  drank  a  standing 
toast  to  the  joys  and  blessings  of  single  life. 
On  the  following  day,  one  of  the  eight  an 
nounced  his  engagement  to  a  chit  of  eigh 
teen.  This  bit  of  perfidy  elicited  from  the 
survivors  a  special  vote  of  censure  which 
accompanied  the  box  of  flowers  sent  by  them 
to  the  victimizer  of  their  late  associate.  The 
only  cheering  bit  of  intelligence  was,  that 
the  treasurer  had  again  done  his  duty.  He 
had  sold  the  shares  of  the  gold  mine  at  a 
magnificent  figure,  and  put  them  into  the 
stock  of  the  Oleo  Refrigerator  Company, 
which  had  immediately  declared  a  cash  divi 
dend  of  fifty  per  cent. 

After  this  there  was  another  lull  of  two 
years  and  a  half.  Then,  at  intervals  of  about 
six  months  apart,  three  more  fell  from  grace, 
leaving  only  George  Edmunds,  Benjamin 
Davis,  Horace  Wilson,  and  Roger  Partridge 
to  dine  together  on  the  occasion  of  the  tenth 
annual  dinner.  Partridge,  who  was  bald- 
headed  and  looked  like  a  confirmed  old  bach 
elor  of  the  first  water,  was  nevertheless  so 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  221 

melancholy  and  absent-minded  that  the 
president,  secretary,  and  treasurer  called  him 
to  order  and  directed  the  eyes  of  the  Associ- 
tion  upon  him  so  sharply  that  the  poor  fel 
low  blushed  to  where  roots  of  his  hair  had 
been. 

"  You  had  better  confess  and  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it,"  said  Ben  Davis. 

"  I've  nothing  to  confess,"  answered  Part 
ridge,  stoutly.  But  he  looked  exceedingly 
doleful,  and  of  a  sudden  he  collapsed  and 
blurted  out,  "  I  offered  myself  to  a  woman 
yesterday  and  she  threw  me  over.  If  that's 
a  reason  for  resigning,  I'll  resign.  I  wish 
somebody  would  blow  my  brains  out." 
Thereupon  he  buried  his  head  in  his  hands. 

There  was  a  short  silence,  and  the  other 
three  exchanged  sardonic  glances. 

"  Does  the  constitution  cover  the  case  ?  " 
asked  Ben  Davis. 

"  No.  The  repentant  sinner  is  received 
back  with  open  arms,"  said  Edmunds. 
"  Cheer  up,  Roger.  You've  run  a  frightful 
risk,  but  you  still  have  a  grip  on  the  pool, 
dear  boy.  Only  don't  ask  her  again." 

"  She  wouldn't  have  me  if  I  did,"  groaned 
the  culprit. 


222       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

"  Oh,  yes,  she  would." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  "  eagerly 
asked  the  bald-headed  bachelor. 

"  Because  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  they 
do." 

"  Then  you  think  I'd  have  a  chance  ?  " 

"  What's  her  age,  old  fellow,  if  she'll  ex 
cuse  the  question  ?  " 

"Twenty-nine  next  August." 

"  It's  nearly  a  dead  certainty,"  exclaimed 
Edmunds  and  Davis,  in  the  same  breath. 

"  My  opinion  is  that  if  you  don't  ask  her, 
she'll  ask  you,"  said  Horace  Wilson. 

This  was  a  little  brutal.  Horace,  who 
really  had  a  tender  heart,  felt  it  to  be  so. 
He  put  his  hand  gently  on  Roger's  shoulder. 

"I  say,"  he  exclaimed  a  moment  later, 
"  this  thing  has  gone  far  enough.  Fate  is 
against  the  Association.  I  vote  that  we  dis 
band." 

"  Disband  !  "  cried  Davis.  "  That  is  a 
monstrous  idea.  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

On  the  other  hand,  Edmunds  made  no  such 
demonstration  of  protest.  Indeed,  a  careful 
observer  would  have  noticed  that  a  flicker  of 
satisfaction  passed  across  his  countenance. 
But  all  he  said  was — he  said  it,  though,  a 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  223 

little  nervously — "  We  four  should  get  about 
fifteen  hundred  apiece.  '  The  fund  figures  a 
trifle  more  than  six  thousand  on  my  books 
to-day." 

"  Money  or  no  money,"  said  Horace, 
"  we've  carried  it  far  enough.  We  have  vin 
dicated  our  principles  ;  we  are  each  of  us 
thirty-five,  and  now  it  seems  to  me  that  any 
one  of  us  ought  to  be  allowed  to  marry  with 
out  loss  of  self-respect." 

"  There  is  certainly  something  in  what  you 
say,"  said  Edmunds,  with  an  appearance  of 
dispassionate  candor. 

Davis  gazed  from  one  to  the  other  in  min 
gled  astonishment  and  indignation.  "  I  nev 
er  heard  such  a  thing,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Dis 
band  just  when  we're  reaching  the  crucial 
point !  It's  the  brassiest  proposition  I  ever 
listened  to.  Even  Roger,  here,  who  would 
get  his  fifteen  hundred  by  it,  looks  as  though 
he  thought  it  the  most  extraordinary  idea 
that  was  ever  broached.  I  see  through  it, 
though,"  he  continued,  defiantly.  "  It's  a 
conspiracy.  You  two  are  either  engaged  or 
in  love,  and  have  put  your  heads  together  to 
play  me  for  an  imbecile.  But  it  won't  work. 
The  Association  can't  disband  without  a 


224       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

unanimous  vote,  and  mine  is  not  to  be  had 
for  love  or  money.  Come  now,  George  Ed 
munds  and  Horace  Wilson,  admit  that  you're 
in  love  and  that  this  is  a  game.  You  can't 
look  me  straight  in  the  eyes,  George.  By 
Jove,  you're  the  most  conscious-looking  con 
spirator  who  was  ever  brought  to  bay." 

Undeniably,  Edmunds,  from  the  moment 
this  accusation  was  uttered,  had  worn  a  flur 
ried  air,  and  now,  when  Davis  seized  him  by 
the  arms  and  tried  to  look  into  his  eyes,  he 
winced  and  avoided  the  searching,  scornful 
scrutiny,  and  turned  pink  and  white.  Even 
his  would-be  nonchalant  words  of  protest  did 
not  clinch  the  matter,  as  his  accuser  was  quick 
to  discover. 

"Engaged?  Nonsense.  I  never  asked  a 
woman  to  marry  me  in  my  life." 

"  But  you're  in  love.     Deny  it  if  you  can." 

"  I  deny  your  right — "  began  George.  "  Er 
— besides  it's  not  true." 

"  I  knew  it,"  cried  Ben,  triumphantly,  and, 
letting  Edmunds  loose,  he  bent  his  gaze  on 
Horace  Wilson.  "  And  here's  another  in  the 
same  fix." 

This  time  there  was  no  wincing  or  shrink 
ing.  The  scornful,  piercing  eyes  encountered 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  225 

a  cool,  steady  return,  and  there  was  the  res 
onance  of  convincing  truth  in  the  sturdy  re- 

Pty: 

"Ben  Davis,  unless  we  disband  to-night, 

you,  barring  my  death,  will  never  touch  one 
dollar  of  that  six  thousand  until  the  end  of 
the  twenty  years,  and  then  you  will  have  to 
divide  it  with  me.  Conspiracy  ?  There  isn't 
a  woman  in  this  world  whom  I  would  cross 
the  street  to  speak  to  a  second  time.  And 
more's  the  pity,  too.  What  I  said  about  dis 
banding  came  from  my  heart.  Heaven  knows 
I'd  like  to  fall  in  love,  but  I  can't.  I've  tried, 
but  it's  no  use.  If  there  ever  was  a  firm-set 
old  bachelor,  I'm  the  man  ;  and  since  you  de 
cline  to  disband,  I  warn  you  to  look  out,  for 
I  intend  to  take  the  pool." 

Thereupon  Horace  folded  his  arms  and 
smiled  with  the  assurance  of  a  man  who  has 
been  many  times  under  fire  and  still  is  heart- 
whole. 

You  will  remember  that  this  occurred  at 
the  tenth  annual  dinner.  Before  the  eleventh 
Roger  Partridge  offered  himself  again  and 
was  accepted.  The  remaining  three  dined 
together  on  the  first  of  January,  and  clinked 
their  glasses  once  more  to  perpetual  bachelor- 
15 


226       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

hood.  Although  George  Edmunds  made  no 
formal  announcement,  his  undisguised  atten 
tions  to  Miss  Virginia  Tebbetts,  and  her  ap 
parent  preference  for  him,  left  little  room  to 
doubt  that  his  membership  in  the  Association 
hung  by  the  gills,  so  to  speak,  and  that  the 
contest  was  to  be  limited  to  the  other  two. 
Indeed,  Ben  Davis  felt  that  the  president, 
secretary,  and  treasurer  was  so  completely 
out  of  the  race  that  he  saw  fit,  in  the  spirit 
of  prudence  which  was  an  attribute  of  his,  to 
throw  out  a  hint  or  two  as  to  the  advisability 
of  conservatism  in  regard  to  the  investment 
of  the  pool.  The  treasurer  had  again  made 
a  notable  financial  stroke  by  selling  out  the 
stock  of  the  "  Oleo  Refrigerator  Company  " 
at  the  top  of  the  market,  and  buying  the 
shares  of  the  "  Plimsoll  Aeronautic  Concern  " 
at  a  bed-rock  price. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  might  be  well  to  salt 
down  what  we  have  into  a  first-rate  real- estate 
mortgage  ?  "  inquired  Ben. 

George  Edmunds  flushed.  He  was  not 
prone  to  take  offence,  but  he  prided  himself 
on  his  acumen  as  an  investor,  and  this  remark 
seemed  to  him  to  savor  of  rank  ingratitude 
and  to  be  entirely  uncalled  for. 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  227 

"  Haven't  I  done  sufficiently  well  for 
you  ?  "  he  replied. 

"You  have  done  wonders  —  made  three 
ten-strokes ;  but — but  I  think  you  will  admit 
that  there  was  a  certain  element  of  risk  in 
each  one  of  the— er — investments." 

"  They  succeeded,"  said  George,  coldly. 

"  Besides,  the  treasurer  was  directed  to  be 
brilliant,"  interjected  Horace.  "  There  is  no 
scope  for  brilliancy  in  a  first-rate  real-estate 
mortgage." 

"  That  was  at  first,  when  we  had  a  mere 
pittance  in  the  treasury.  We  have  ten  thou 
sand  dollars  now.  Ten  thousand  dollars 
does  not  grow  on  every  bush,  but  it  may  be 
lost  in  a  twinkling.  What  if  the  flying-ma 
chine  does  not  work?  Where  will  our  money 
be?" 

Undoubtedly  George  Edmunds  laid  up  this 
criticism  against  Ben  so  far  as  a  kind-hearted 
and  malice-hating  fellow  could  lay  up  any 
thing  against  anybody.  This,  too,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  the  stock  of  the  "Plimsoll 
Aeronautic  Concern  "  rose  rapidly  during  the 
next  four  months,  demonstrating  clearly 
thereby  the  superior  sagacity  of  the  treas 
urer  of  the  Matrimonial  Tontine  Mutual 


228       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

Benefit  Association.  At  a  special  meeting 
of  the  members,  held  on  the  first  day  of  May, 
this  self-same  treasurer  announced,  with  the 
apologetic  reprehension  of  self  which  the  fall 
of  the  chief  and  sole  official  of  the  Associa 
tion  seemed  to  demand,  his  engagement  to 
Miss  Virginia  Tebbetts. 

"I  have  called  a  special  meeting,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  for  the  reason  that,  as  I  have  ceased 
to  be  a  member,  a  new  custodian  of  the  as 
sets  of  the  Association  should  be  elected 
forthwith.  The  only  present  asset  is  this 
certificate  for  one  thousand  shares  of  the 
stock  of  the  'Plimsoll  Aeronautic  Concern,' 
which  I  take  pleasure  in  informing  you  could 
be  sold  to-day  for  twelve  thousand  five  hun 
dred  dollars." 

Thereupon,  with  a  glance  of  legitimate  tri 
umph  at  Ben  Davis,  he  laid  the  valuable 
piece  of  parchment  on  the  table,  together 
with  the  records  of  the  Association,  and 
presently  left  the  two  survivors  to  their  own 
devices. 

On  the  following  morning,  before  a  single 
quotation  was  uttered  in  Wall  Street,  Ben 
Davis  entered  a  broker's  office  with  the  piece 
of  parchment  in  question,  duly  endorsed  by 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  229 

him  as  president,  secretary,  and  treasurer  of 
the  Association. 

"  Sell  this  at  the  market,"  he  said,  care 
lessly.  But  though  he  looked  cool  as  a  cu 
cumber,  there  was  fever  in  his  soul,  and  he 
hung  about  the  office  until  the  operation  was 
completed.  The  stock  was  sold  for  $12,500, 
and  the  following  week  it  fell  $5  a  share  in 
as  many  minutes,  and  within  a  fortnight  the 
certificates  were  worth  merely  what  old  pa 
per  is  worth.  But  long  before  that  dismal 
day  the  funds  of  the  Matrimonial  Tontine 
Mutual  Benefit  Association  were  safely  in 
vested  in  a  gilt-edged  mortgage  on  improved 
real  estate. 

And  so,  as  was  stated  in  the  first  place, 
the  Association  was  reduced  to  two  members, 
a  condition  of  affairs  which  had  existed  now 
for  three  calendar  years.  The  fourteenth  an 
nual  dinner  had  recently  been  eaten,  and  Ben 
Davis  and  Horace  Wilson  had  clinked  glasses 
to  the  joys  of  single  life  with  the  same  gusto, 
so  far  as  either  could  discern  by  close  scru 
tiny  of  the  other,  displayed  by  them  on  the 
very  first  occasion.  Beyond  the  fact  that 
George  Edmunds  had  been  married  and  was 
the  father  of  a  boy  baby,  and  the  funds  of 


230        THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

the  Association  were  yielding  a  safe  but 
modest  four  and  one-half  per  cent.,  matters 
seemed  just  the  same.  But  they  were  not. 

One  winter's  evening,  about  six  weeks  sub 
sequent  to  the  fourteenth  annual  dinner,  Ben 
Davis  sat  before  the  fire  in  his  comfortable 
bachelor  rooms,  with  a  pensive  expression  of 
countenance.  Time  had  dealt  kindly  with 
Ben.  He  had  some  hair  left,  a  moderately 
youthful  face  and  figure,  and  a  prosperous 
business.  People  and  corporations  who 
were  pressed  for  money  came  to  him  to  re 
lieve  their  necessities,  and  he  was  very  apt 
to  be  able  to  relieve  them.  When  he  did  so, 
he  retained  a  small  slice  ;  such  is  the  way  of 
the  world  ;  and  it  does  not  take  a  very  great 
many  slices  to  make  a  respectable  family 
loaf.  But  Ben  had  no  family.  He  kept  a 
cob,  and  he  went  to  Europe  for  six  weeks  in 
summer,  provided  the  money  market  was  not 
too  tight.  In  the  event  of  financial  strin 
gency  he  ran  down  to  Bar  Harbor  for  a  fort 
night  or  so.  Money  had  been  at  a  premium 
the  previous  summer,  and  he  had  been  able 
to  get  away  only  for  ten  days,  and  to  get 
only  as  far  as  Narragansett  Pier.  But  those 
ten  days  had  been  detrimental  to  his  peace 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  231 

of  mind  ever  since.  He  had  seen  her  in  the 
water  the  first  time,  and  he  could  not  forget 
her. 

She  did  not  live  in  New  York  ;  but  such 
are  the  opportunities  of  a  note  broker  that 
one  can  run  over  to  Philadelphia  on  business 
without  seeming  to  go  out  of  one's  way  to 
call  on  a  girl.  Ben  had  made  the  trip  five 
times  since  the  first  of  October,  and  it  was 
not  yet  March,  and  he  had  fairly  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  single  life  was  a  failure. 
What  he  was  saying  to  himself  this  evening 
was  that  on  Easter  he  would  send  her  a  lily, 
and  go  over  the  following  week  and  ask  her 
to  become  his.  In  the  event  that  she  ac 
cepted  him,  Horace  Wilson,  of  course,  would 
get  the  money.  This  was  not  exactly  a  pleas 
ant  thought  for  Ben ;  but  so  far  as  he  could 
see,  there  would  be  no  escape  from  it.  Some 
how  he  had  come  to  regard  the  pool  as  his, 
and  the  idea  of  losing  it  entirely  was  galling. 
Not  that  he  needed  the  money ;  for  he  was 
doing  remarkably  well.  Indeed,  the  sum 
would  make  a  much  greater  difference  to 
Horace  Wilson  than  to  him,  for  Horace, 
though  described  in  common  parlance  as  a 
rising  landscape  gardener,  had  only  half  his 


THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 


income.  It  would  certainly  be  unpleasant, 
though,  to  be  obliged  to  take  the  little  trunk 
out  from  the  safe  and  hand  it  over  to  Horace. 
The  gilt-edged  mortgage  on  improved  real 
estate  seemed  to  him  to  belong  just  where  it 
was,  and  the  prospect  of  parting  with  it  was 
very  distasteful  to  him.  Was  there  no  means 
by  which  he  could  win  her  and  the  pool  both  ? 

None  presented  itself  that  evening,  but  on 
the  following  morning,  which  was  Sunday,  he 
stumbled  upon  something  just  a  little  prom 
ising.  Up  to  this  time  during  the  last  five 
years  he  had  never  seen  Horace  "Wilson  in 
the  society  of  any  woman.  Though  the  city 
was  large,  to  be  sure,  and  they  did  not  meet 
altogether  the  same  people,  Ben  flattered 
himself  that  he  kept  a  pretty  close  eye  on 
Horace.  And  yet  the  painful  consciousness 
was  his  that  never  had  he  run  across  his  rival 
in  what  might  be  called  a  compromising  situ 
ation.  Had  he  detected  him  even  at  a  thea 
tre-party,  he  would  have  felt  encouraged,  but 
though  he  had  often  beheld  Horace  comforta 
bly  ensconced  in  an  orchestra  stall,  there  had 
never  been  a  female  companion  beside  him. 

On  this  Sunday  morning,  however,  as  Ben 
was  taking  an  airing,  chance  led  him  along 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  233 

the  particular  cross  street  in  which  George 
Edmunds  had  established  his  household 
gods.  The  churches  were  just  out,  and 
though  it  was  a  cross  street,  there  was  a 
sprinkling  of  people  on  either  sidewalk.  Ben 
was  thinking  of  her,  and  consequently  did 
not  pay  his  customary  heed  to  the  passers. 
There  was  only  one  woman  in  the  world  for 
him,  and  as  for  the  men,  they  interested  him 
not  at  all,  provided  the  single  ones  stayed 
away  from  Philadelphia.  There  was  just 
one  man  he  would  except  from  the  general 
scope  of  his  indifference,  and  he  was  Horace 
Wilson.  Why  the  dickens  didn't  that  fellow 
get  married  ?  It  was  high  time.  Happening 
to  look  across  the  street  as  this  thought  for 
mulated  itself  in  his  mind,  his  heart  gave  a 
jump.  In  the  vestibule  of  George  Edmunds's 
house  stood  four  people,  who  were  on  the  point 
of  entering.  Indeed,  before  he  had  fully  com 
prehended  the  situation,  they  had  gone  in  and 
shut  the  door.  But  in  three  of  them  Ben  had 
recognized  George  and  his  wife  and  Horace 
Wilson.  As  to  the  fourth,  who  had  been 
slightly  in  advance  of  the  others,  and  conse 
quently  partially  concealed,  he  had  detected 
by  the  feathers  on  her  bonnet  that  she  was  a 


234       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

woman,  and  a  passably  young  woman  at  that. 
Ben,  being  a  note  broker,  was  quick  at  com 
putation.  He  instantly  put  two  and  two  to 
gether  and  said  to  himself  that  Horace  had 
been  escorting  the  unknown  in  question  home 
from  church.  A  ray  of  hope  lit  up  his  late 
gloomy  reflections  regarding  the  gilt-edged 
mortgage.  If  Horace  were  to  become  en 
gaged  before  he  did,  the  pool  would  be  his. 
After  glancing  up  at  the  house  opposite  in 
the  hope  of  detecting  the  mysterious  stranger 
at  the  window,  he  went  on  his  way  with  a 
more  elastic  step.  If  he  won  the  pool,  could 
he  not  afford  to  give  the  one  woman  in  the 
world  the  superb  diamonds  which  he  had  ex 
amined  at  a  jeweller's  the  week  before  ?  He 
would  be  cautious  and  delay  a  little,  and 
await  developments. 

On  the  very  next  evening  Ben  happened  to 
run  across  George  Edmunds  at  the  club,  and 
immediately  asked  him  the  question  upper 
most  in  his  mind :  "  Who  was  the  lady 
walking  home  with  you  from  church  yester 
day?" 

The  inquiry  was  made  in  the  most  inno 
cent,  off-hand  manner,  but  obviously  George 
was  prepared  for  it.  Be  it  for  the  reason 


HORACE  HAD  BEEN  ESCORTING  THE  UNKNOWN  IN  QUESTION 
HOME  FROM  CHURCH 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  235 

that  he  had  never  forgiven  Ben  for  charging 
him  with  being  in  love  before  he  knew  it 
himself,  or  for  impugning  his  financial  judg 
ment,  George  had  taken  sides.  He  was  par 
ticularly  desirous,  that  Horace  Wilson  should 
win  the  pool,  and  consequently  was  on  his 
guard. 

He  answered,  diplomatically,  "  My  wife's 
mother  is  staying  with  us  for  a  few  days." 

"  I  congratulate  you,  George.  It  wasn't 
your  wife's  mother  with  you  yesterday,  how 
ever.  The  lady  Horace  Wilson  escorted  to 
your  house  was  no  one's  mother.  Is  he  at 
tentive  to  her  ?  " 

"Spying,  eh?"  said  George.  "No,  he 
isn't." 

"What's  her  name?" 

George  hesitated.  He  was  on  the  point  of 
telling  and  then,  for  no  particular  reason, 
thought  better  of  it. 

"  It  will  never  be  Wilson,"  he  replied. 

George  Edmunds  returned  to  the  bosom 
of  his  family  that  night  in  an  anxious  frame 
of  mind.  He  and  his  wife,  the  late  Virginia 
Tebbetts,  were  already  at  war  in  regard  to 
the  relations  between  Horace  Wilson  and 
their  guest,  Miss  Florence  Delaney,  and  his 


236       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE. 

interview  with  Ben  Davis  had  made  him 
still  more  solicitous  that  his  better  half 
should  do  nothing  further  to  promote  the 
affair. 

"  It  will  be  the  same  as  robbing  Horace  of 
a  good  thirteen  thousand  dollars,"  said  he  to 
his  spouse.  "  You  should  have  seen  the  tri 
umphant,  avaricious  gleam  in  Ben's  eyes 
when  he  told  me  that  he  had  detected  him. 
Just  leave  the  man  alone,  Virginia.  Pro 
vided  you  let  him  go  his  own  gait,  I  feel  sure 
that  his  natural  antipathy  to  your  sex  will 
lead  him  out  of  temptation.  But  if  you  keep 
egging  him  on,  the  next  thing  we  shall  hear 
is  that  he  is  engaged." 

"  I  devoutly  hope  so,  dear.  I  have  made 
the  discovery  that  Horace  Wilson  is  one  of 
those  men  whose  matrimonial  sweetness  has 
been  wasted  on  the  desert  air  of  a  club  long 
enough.  He  is  peculiarly  adapted  to  be  a 
husband  and  father,  but  the  girls  in  the 
world  who  would  suit  him  are  abnormally 
scarce.  Dear  Florence  happens  to  be  one  of 
them.  He  may  never  meet  another  ;  and  so 
the  sooner  they  are  engaged  the  better." 

"  Then  let  him  find  it  out  for  himself. 
Don't  prod  him  into  it." 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  237 

"  No,  clear ;  a  bachelor  of  his  age  needs  to 
be  prodded  now  and  then  in  order  to  realize 
what  is  best  for  him.  So  great  is  the  sexual 
shyness  which  a  wicked  association  such  as 
yours  engenders,  that  a  woman  has  to  give 
very  clear  signs  that  she  is  pleased,  or  the 
man  will  run  back  into  his  lair  again  and 
fancy  himself  jilted.  Don't  you  remember 
how  I  had  virtually  to  offer  myself  to  you 
before  you  came  to  the  point  ?  " 

"  But  no  third  person  dragged  me  up  to 
the  halter." 

"No;  because  you  see,  George,  I  really 
liked  you  almost  as  much  as  you  did  me. 
But  the  trouble  here  is  that  Florence  doesn't 
know  her  own  mind.  It  seems  there's  an 
other." 

"  Thank  goodness." 

"  Ah,  George,  don't  talk  like  that.  Poor 
Horace  is  just  crazy  about  her.  He  thinks 
of  nothing  else.  And  he  needs  encourage 
ment  so  badly.  Only  this  afternoon  he  said 
to  me,  '  I'm  afraid  it's  no  use.  I'll  give  it 
up  and  go  in  for  the  pool.  She  doesn't  care 
for  me  more  than  for  the  button  on  one  of 
her  boots.'  Oh,  it  was  pitiful,  George  !  " 

" Who  is  this  another?" 


238       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

"  That's  the  difficulty.  I  don't  even  know 
definitely  that  there  is  another.  But  I  feel 
morally  sure  that  there  is.  Otherwise  she 
would  accept  Horace.  It's  harassing,  for 
they  are  just  made  for  each  other.  I  warn 
you,  George,  that  I  am  going  to  do  everything 
that  I  can  to  bring  them  together.  I  shall 
invite  her  frequently  to  stay,  and  I  shall  go 
where  she  goes  this  summer.  It  was  you  who 
were  responsible  for  this  hateful  Association, 
and  I  feel  a  moral  obligation  to  save  Horace 
Wilson  while  there  is  yet  time." 

"  The  time  to  save  him,  as  you  call  it,  will 
be  after  he  has  pocketed  the  thirteen  thou 
sand  dollars,"  said  George. 

Mrs.  Edmunds  was  a  determined  woman. 
Her  words  were  no  idle  sputterings  to  be  for 
gotten  as  soon  as  spoken.  She  was  resolved 
to  keep  the  possibility  that  he  might  be 
accepted  constantly  before  the  mind  of 
Horace  Wilson,  and  with  feminine,  feline  in 
stinct  she  reached  out  for  Ben  Davis  as  an 
ally.  She  happened  to  meet  him  at  Tiffany's 
some  fortnight  later.  He  had  gone  in  to 
have  another  look  at  the  diamonds,  and  he 
was  reflecting  that  the  pool  would  enable 
him  to  satisfy  admirably  his  impulse  to  do 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  239 

the  handsome  thing  by  her  who  was  to  be 
his,  when  he  looked  up  and  beheld  Mrs.  Ed 
munds  watching  him.  He  bit  his  tongue  in 
vain  to  keep  from  blushing.  He  realized  that 
he  had  been  caught  in  a  very  compromis 
ing  situation.  Yet  to  his  relief  his  observer 
did  not  seem  to  notice  it.  On  the  contrary 
she  said :  "  If  you  have  a  spare  moment, 
Mr.  Davis,  I  wish  to  have  a  few  words  with 
you  in  regard  to  our  mutual  friend,  Mr. 
Wilson.  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  he  is 
in  love." 

"  I  had  guessed  as  much." 

"Then  you  know  her?" 

"  Not  well.  I  have  seen  her."  It  would 
have  been  more  accurate  to  say  that  he  had 
seen  the  tip  of  her  bonnet.  But  Ben  was  a 
diplomat  by  instinct. 

"  She  is  a  charming  creature.  Just  the 
woman  for  him.  He  really  ought  to  be  mar 
ried.  And  all  he  needs  is  encouragement — 
to  be  egged  on.  Can  I  count  on  you,  Mr. 
Davis,  now  and  then  to  do  a  little  egging  ?  " 

The  late  Virginia  Tebbetts  spoke  with  all 
the  engaging  sweetness  at  her  command,  and 
conscious  that  she  had  said  all  that  was 
necessary  to  enlist  him  on  her  side,  pro- 


240       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINB 

vided  he  were  willing  to  yield  to  the  tempta 
tion,  she  glided  away  and  left  Ben  to  his 
own  cogitations. 

The  result  of  this  interview  wras  twofold. 
It  strengthened  Ben's  resolution  to  be  cau 
tious  and  make  haste  slowly  in  the  matter  of 
committing  himself  toward  his  intended,  and 
it  gave  him  an  excuse  for  opening  fire  on 
Horace.  As  Mrs.  Edmunds  had  said,  Horace 
really  ought  to  be  married.  A  word  or  two 
of  encouragement  from  him  might  cement 
matters  and  bring  about  his  friend's  everlast 
ing  happiness.  The  game  was  perfectly  fair, 
for  Horace  knew  well  enough  that  the  man 
who  was  engaged  first  would  lose  the  pool. 

The  opportunity  came  the  following  week. 
Ben  was  returning  from  Philadelphia,  where 
he  had  been  to  call  on  his  Dulcinea,  and  he 
ran  across  Horace  in  the  train.  They  had 
the  smoking-compartment  all  to  themselves, 
so  Ben  opened  fire  at  once. 

"  I've  come  to  the  conclusion,  old  man," 
he  said,  "  that  there's  no  happiness  like  mar 
ried  happiness.  I  rather  expect  to  be  mar 
ried  myself  some  day."  This  admission 
seemed  to  Ben  to  be  magnanimous,  and  he 
proceeded  to  add,  without  a  qualm,  "A  little 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  241 

bird  has  told  me  that  you  have  only  to  ask  in 
a  certain  quarter  to  be  accepted." 

"And  leave  you  to  gather  in  the  pool?" 
replied  Horace,  promptly.  "  Springes  to 
catch  woodcocks,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  win  the  pool,"  said  Ben, 
slowly.  "  But  what  is  a  pool  compared 
with  true  love  ?  You  may  lose  her,  man, 
if  you  let  mercenary  considerations  move 
you." 

Horace  made  no  verbal  response.  He 
merely  sighed  —  sighed  deeply.  Ben,  who 
was  a  diplomat,  respected  this  display  of 
emotion  by  silence.  He  bided  his  time  and 
said,  presently,  "  I  understand  that  she  is 
very  charming." 

"  She  is  an  angel,"  said  Horace.  "  But 
I'm  not  worthy  of  her,  in  the  first  place,  and 
in  the  second,  she  doesn't  care  for  me." 

"  How  can  you  tell  until  you  ask  her  ? " 
murmured  Ben  ;  though,  to  do  him  justice, 
he  reminded  himself  of  the  murderer  of 
Gonzago,  pouring  the  poison  into  his  vic 
tim's  ear  in  the  play  of  one  William  Shake 
speare. 

Horace  sighed  again,  more  pensively  and 
less  hopelessly  than  before.  Just  then  the 
16 


242       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

train  stopped  at  a  way  station  and  Ben  took 
advantage  of  the  five  minutes'  intermission  to 
telegraph  to  the  florist  at  Philadelphia  : 

"  Delay  lily." 

He  had  given  orders  that  morning  to  have 
one  sent  to  her  on  Easter  Sunday,  which  was 
the  day  after  to-morrow,  but  it  seemed  to 
him,  in  view  of  the  entire  situation,  that  he 
had  better  suspend  active  operations  until 
he  should  ascertain  whether  Horace's  cam 
paign  was  likely  to  be  long  or  short.  The 
girl  might  be  one  of  the  kind  who  would  re 
fuse  Horace  the  first  time  ;  in  which  case 
there  would  be  a  fearful  relapse,  and  months 
might  pass  before  the  sick  man  could  be 
egged  on  to  a  second  trial. 

The  spring  slipped  away,  and  so  did  the 
summer  and  autumn,  and  presently  the 
ground  was  covered  with  snow,  and  Christ 
mas-wreaths  were  in  the  windows.  On  the 
evening  of  the  twenty-fourth,  or  Christmas- 
eve  as  we  call  it,  the  mercury  was  only  five 
degrees  above  zero ;  it  was  snowing,  and 
those  who  had  put  off  buying  their  Christmas 
presents  until  the  last  minute  found  Jack 
Frost  a  too  attentive  companion.  Ben  Da 
vis  was  not  among  them.  He  was  sitting  in 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  243 

his  pleasant  bachelor's  rooms,  comfortably 
established  before  a  glorious  fire.  He  had 
bought  all  his  Christinas  presents,  and  he 
had  even  hung  up  his  own  stocking,  but  he 
was  not  thinking  of  Christmas  at  the  moment. 
Once  or  twice  he  rubbed  his  hands  pleasant 
ly  together,  as  though  he  were  gratified  at 
his  own  reflections.  And  indeed  they  were 
satisfactory  from  his  point  of  view.  Only 
the  day  before  yesterday  he  had  had  a  most 
interesting  interview  with  his  ally  and  fellow- 
conspirator,  Mrs.  George  Edmunds,  who  had 
complimented  him  on  his  egging  capabili 
ties,  and  whose  final  words  had  been,  "  She 
is  coming  to  stay  with  us  to-morrow,  and  I 
shall  be  egregiously  surprised  if  he  doesn't 
ask  her  and  if  she  doesn't  accept  him.  It  is 
practically  an  accomplished  fact." 

An  accomplished  fact !  With  Horace  Wil 
son  engaged  and  out  of  the  way,  the  pool 
would  be  his  and  he  would  be  free  to  be  as 
devoted  as  he  pleased  to  the  charmer  in 
Philadelphia.  Another  Christmas-eve  should 
not  find  him  a  lonely  bachelor,  but  a  happy 
Benedict,  with  the  sweetest  wife  in  the  world. 
He  had  waited  the  longest,  but  he  had  won 
both  the  pool  and  the  most  charming  of  her 


244       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

sex.  And  after  all,  was  he  not  the  one  en 
titled  to  the  pool?  But  for  his  prudence 
and  prompt  action  in  the  nick  of  time,  there 
would  have  been  no  pool  left.  It  would  have 
gone  where  the  rest  of  the  funds  in  the 
"  Plimsoll  Aeronautic  Concern "  had  gone. 
Instead,  it  was  invested  in  a  gilt-edged  mort 
gage  on  improved  real  estate.  Prudence ! 
Caution !  These  had  been  the  watchwords 
of  his  career.  They  had  served  him  well  in 
business,  and  now  they  were  to  serve  him 
well  in  love.  If  only  Horace  Wilson  an 
nounced  his  engagement  on  Christmas-day, 
he  would  offer  himself  on  the  first  of  Jan 
uary,  and  she  should  have  the  diamonds. 
He  rubbed  his  hands  again  at  the  thought, 
then  started,  for  someone  had  knocked.  It 
was  ten  o'clock.  Who  could  be  the  caller 
on  so  cold  and  stormy  anight?  "  Come  in," 
he  cried,  and  in  walked  the  gentleman  of 
whom  he  had  been  thinking,  well  done  up 
in  a  heavy  coat  which  was  plentifully  be 
sprinkled  with  snow. 

"I  wish  you  merry  Christmas,  Horace. 
You  look  like  Santa  Claus  himself." 

"  I  am  Santa  Claus.  By  your  leave,  Ben, 
I've  come  for  a  cigar  and  a  nightcap.  Ah ! " 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  245 

he  added  as  lie  approached  the  hearth,  "  I 
see  you  have  hung  your  stocking  up." 

"  Yes.  I  always  do  that.  Some  years  I 
wake  up  and  find  it  empty.  But  it  reminds 
me  of  old  times  to  see  it  there." 

"  Well,  you  won't  find  it  empty  to-morrow 
morning.  I've  come  to  fill  it." 

"  Brought  me  a  present,  eh  ?  "  Ben's  pulses 
bounded  joyfully,  but  his  habitual  caution 
bade  him  speak  decorously. 

"  A  good  many  men  would  be  very  glad  to 
find  what  you  will  find  in  your  stocking. 
But  very  likely  you  won't  care  much.  Ben, 
I'm  engaged.  I  dare  say  you  can  afford  to 
congratulate  me." 

Congratulate  him  ?  It  was  a  little  awk 
ward  to  have  to  jump  up  and  nearly  wring  a 
man's  hand  off  when  you  had  just  come  into 
a  neat  $13,500  as  the  result  of  his  action. 
Nevertheless,  Ben  did  it  with  consummate 
tact  and  all  the  semblance  of  sincerity. 
Glad  ?  Of  course  he  was  glad  ;  simply  radi 
ant.  There  was  no  need  to  pretend.  He 
shook  Horace  by  the  hand  again  and  again, 
and  they  both  laughed  until  they  nearly 
cried. 

"  You  have  won  the  pool,  old  boy,  and  I 


246       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

don't  care  a  straw.  I'm  the  luckiest  fellow 
in  the  world.  She's  a  perfect  darling." 

"  I'm  sure  she  is.  I  wish  you  no  end  of 
happiness,  Horace." 

"  Do  you  know  her,  Ben?  " 

"  No,  I  caught  just  a  glimpse  of  her  once 
on  George  Edmunds's  door-steps.  Merely 
the  tip  of  her  bonnet.  I  suspected  you, 
though,  from  that  minute." 

"  Did  you,  really  ?  George  has  been  aw 
fully  kind  ;  that  is,  confound  him,  I  mean 
infernally  disagreeable.  He  did  not  want 
me  to  lose  the  pool,  and  so  he  tried  to  make 
out  that  it  would  be  time  enough  to  think  of 
marrying  when  the  twenty  years  ran  out. 
But  his  wife,  heaven  bless  her,  and  you,  Ben, 
kept  my  spirits  up.  If  it  wasn't  one  at  me 
it  was  the  other,  until  finally  I  took  heart 
and  asked  her.  You  were  gunning  for  the 
pool,  of  course,  Ben.  I  saw  that.  But  you 
helped  me  all  the  same,  and,  thanks  to  you 
and  Virginia  Edmunds,  I've  something  to 
live  for  now.  You  don't  know,  Ben,  what  an 
insignificant  thing  money  seems  to  me  to 
night.  Get  married — get  married,  Ben,  as 
soon  as  you  can." 

"  Perhaps  I  may  some  day,"  he  answered, 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  247 

significantly,  moved  by  Horace's  enthusiasm, 
for  it  was  no  longer  necessary  to  be  cautious. 
"  I  shall  have  to  drink  to  bachelorhood  alone 
this  year ;  but  between  you  and  me,  Horace, 
I  hope  for  better  things  some  day." 

"  Don't  put  it  off,  Ben.  If  you  only  knew 
— but  you  don't.  I  won't  bore  you.  George 
says  I'm  as  obnoxious  to  the  nerves  as  a 
Fourth  of  July  celebration." 

"  I  don't  even  know  her  name." 

"Florence.  Do  you  remember  the  day 
we  met  on  the  train  coming  from  Philadel 
phia  ?  I  had  just  been  to  see  her.  Florence 
Delaney." 

Ben  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  in  silence. 
"  It  is  a  pretty  name,"  he  said,  quietly. 

"  And  she  is  an  adorable  woman." 

"Yes." 

"  I  thought  you  said  you  didn't  know  her." 

"  I  was  mistaken.  I  find  I  do.  You  are 
indeed  the  luckiest  man  in  the  world." 

Horace  glanced  at  him  narrowly,  struck  by 
his  grave  tone  and  by  the  quietness  of  his 
demeanor.  "  Poor  fellow,"  he  said  to  him 
self.  "  He  must  be  thinking  what  an  infer 
nally  dull  thing  it  is  to  be  an  old  bachelor. 
I  won't  remind  him  of  it  any  longer." 


24:8       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

Horace  remained  until  he  had  finished  his 
cigar.  After  he  had  gone  Ben  sat  for  a  long 
time  with  his  face  in  his  hands  and  his  head 
on  the  table.  To  think  that  he  had  never 
recognized  her  on  George  Edmunds's  steps 
that  Sunday  morning.  He  called  to  mind 
Horace's  speech  urging  him  not  to  put  off 
being  married,  and  he  laughed  at  his  own 
discomfiture,  though  there  were  real  tears  in 
his  eyes.  He  said  to  himself  that  he  was 
doomed  to  be  an  old  bachelor  to  the  end  of 
his  days.  Christmas-eve  after  Christmas- 
eve  would  find  him  just  like  this.  What  a 
fool  he  had  been.  Prudence  !  Caution  ! 
They  had  served  him  well,  indeed,  in  the 
matter  of  love.  He  seemed  to  see  them  be 
fore  his  mind's  sight  in  mocking  letters  of 
fire.  He  had  won  the  pool ;  but  what  was 
the  pool  now?  Poor,  pitiful  schemer  that 
he  had  been ;  he  had  thrown  away  the  chance 
of  his  life. 

He  walked  his  room  long  that  night,  and 
when  he  went  to  bed  it  was  not  to  sleep. 
The  sun  rose  on  a  city  mantled  in  snow. 
It  was  Christmas-day,  but  Ben  felt  that  he 
belonged  nowhere  except  at  his  club.  He 
dined  there  alone,  and  after  dinner  he  went 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  249 

into  the  writing-room  and  wrote.  Merely  a 
few  lines  ;  but  when  he  had  finished  them  he 
felt  better.  On  the  following  morning  he 
rose  early,  for  he  had  a  present  to  buy  on 
his  way  down  town.  He  was  at  Tiffany's  so 
promptly  that  the  attendants  were  still  nib 
bing  the  aftermath  of  Merry  Christmas  from 
their  eyes  when  he  entered.  "Let  this  be 
delivered  as  soon  as  possible.  It  is  a  Christ 
mas  present  I  had  neglected  to  buy,"  he  said 
to  the  salesman  from  whom  he  made  his  pur 
chase. 

An  hour  and  a  half  later  Horace  Wilson 
and  his  ladylove  were  sitting  on  the  sofa  in 
Mrs.  George  Edmnnds's  drawing-room,  when 
the  maid  entered  with  a  tolerably  large  par 
cel  which  she  delivered  to  Miss  Delaney. 
Notwithstanding  that  Miss  Delaney  was  very 
comfortable  where  she  was,  she  forsook  the 
sofa  in  order  to  examine  her  belated  Christ 
mas  present. 

"  I  wonder  whom  it  can  be  from,  Horace," 
she  murmured,  feverishly,  as  young  ladies 
will  under  such  circumstances.  But  before 
she  undid  the  parcel  she  stopped  to  read  the 
note  which  accompanied  it. 

"  How  very  kind  of  him  ! "  she  said,  when 


250       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

she  had  finished.  She  looked  just  a  little 
queer,  too.  "  It's  from  Mr.  Benjamin  Davis." 
And  she  held  out  the  note. 

"  Ben  Davis  ?  I  didn't  know  you  knew  him. " 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear,  very  well  indeed.  In 
fact — "  but  here  Miss  Delaney  stopped  and 
gave  a  little  laugh,  and  began  busily  to  undo 
the  parcel. 

"  In  fact  what  ?  "  asked  Horace. 

"Nothing."  Then  she  gave  a  sudden 
scream  of  transport.  "  Look,  Horace,  look. 
Why,  they  are  diamonds  —  real  diamonds. 
Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  superb  ?  " 

Horace  whistled  with  astonishment.  "  Dia 
monds  ?  I  should  think  they  were !  " 

But  a  flush  of  disquietude  presently  suc 
ceeded  the  expression  of  delight  on  Miss  De 
laney 's  face,  and  she  looked  up  at  her  lover 
appealingly.  "  I  really  don't  see  why  he 
sent  me  such  a  present.  They  are  lovely, 
but  I  don't  think  I  like  it." 

"You  mustn't  feel  annoyed,  dearest," 
answered  Horace,  mysteriously.  "Ben  has 
tried  to  do  the  handsome  thing,  and  he  has 
done  it." 

"  May  I  really  keep  them,  Horace  ?  "  she 
asked,  almost  supplicatingly. 


t 


1 


WHY    THEY   ARE    DIAMONDS — REAL   DIAMONDS  !  " 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  251 

"  Certainly,  dear.  Ben  has  sent  them  on 
my  account,  and  he  has  acted  very  gener 
ously.  I  have  a  little  confession  to  make,  if 
you  will  listen.  I  ought  to  have  told  you 
before,  but  I  haven't  had  time  since  yester 
day.  Ben  and  I  have  been  members  of  a 
club  called  the  Matrimonial  Tontine  Mutual 
Benefit  Association."  Thereupon  Horace 
told  her  the  whole  story — at  least  he  thought 
he  had.  "So  you  see,"  he  said  in  conclu 
sion,  "  Ben,  the  dear  old  fellow,  has  taken  it 
into  his  head  to  do  the  handsome  thing.  He 
has  practically  shared  the  pool  with  me." 

"  I  see,"  said  Florence  Delaney,  quietly, 
but  she  shook  her  head  with  a  little  sigh  and 
looked  queerer  than  before.  Horace,  how 
ever,  did  not  observe  these  signs  of  distrust 
in  his  deductions,  for  he  was  engaged  in 
reading  Ben  Davis's  letter,  which,  by  the 
way,  was  the  most  commonplace  of  epistles. 

"  Dear  Miss  Delaney,"  it  ran.  "  Will  you 
do  me  the  favor  to  accept  these  jewels  with 
my  sincerest  wishes  for  your  future  happi 
ness?  Wishing  you  a  merry  Christmas,  I 
am  yours  very  sincerely,  Benjamin  Davis." 

It  was  natural,  in  view  of  his  understand 
ing  of  the  matter,  that  the  gift  of  the  dia- 


252       THE  MATRIMONIAL   TONTINE 

moncls  should  not  be  concealed  by  Horace 
from  George  Edmunds  and  his  wife.  It 
happened  later  in  the  day,  when  Horace  was 
showing  them  to  Mrs.  George,  that  she  re 
marked,  casually,  "  Now  that  it  is  all  settled, 
Horace,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  was 
very  much  concerned  at  one  time  lest  Flor 
ence  would  accept  Ben  Davis." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  exclaimed  our 
hero,  very  nearly  letting  fall  the  precious 
stones  in  his  agitation. 

"  Why,  he  was  the  '  another '  of  whom  I 
was  so  much  afraid,  though  I  didn't  let  you 
see  I  was.  I  didn't  know  myself  that  he 
was  Mr.  Davis  until  a  few  weeks  ago,  and 
when  I  realized  that  I  had  induced  him  to 
egg  you  on  to  offer  yourself  to  his  own  sweet 
heart,  I  felt  like  a  guilty  wretch.  But  it  was 
too  late  to  draw  back  then.  Why,  Horace, 
how  strange  you  look  !  I  took  it  for  granted 
that  Florence  had  told  you  all  about  it." 

"  You  have  merely  added  just  a  few  paltry 
details  which  make  me  inclined  to  be  sorry 
that  I  let  Florence  keep  those  diamonds," 
said  Horace,  grimly. 

"  Ah,  you  won't  be  so  cruel  as  to  take  them 
away  now  after  telling  her  she  could  keep 


BENEFIT  ASSOCIATION  253 

them  ?  Besides  it  would  hurt  Mr.  Davis's 
feelings.  He  has  really  been  very  gener 
ous." 

"  Confound  him,  yes.  I  suppose  you  are 
right,  though.  Poor  fellow,  how  I  pity  him ! 
I  can  certainly  afford  to  be  a  little  generous 
too." 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 


NICHOLS  owed  the  beginning  of 
1  his  reputation  as  an  architect  to  his 
successful  design  for  the  Public  Library  at 
Foxburgh.  The  building  was  promptly  rec 
ognized  as  a  tasteful  and  original  conception ; 
consequently  new  orders  came  in,  not  merely 
for  libraries,  but  for  a  church  or  two,  several 
town-halls,  a  soldiers'  monument,  a  skating- 
rink,  and  sundry  private  residences.  In  the 
language  of  Tom's  friends  and  acquaintance, 
his  affairs  were  looking  up,  a  pleasant  condi 
tion  which  emboldened  Mrs.  Nichols  to  have 
several  articles  of  furniture  covered  and  to 
buy  two  new  carpets.  She  explained  to  Tom 
that  most  women  would  have  insisted  on 
having  a  new  house,  but  that  she  was  at 
tached  to  the  little  nest  which  they  had  chos 
en  ten  years  before,  when  they  had  married 
17 


258  BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK 

for  love  in  the  teeth  of  the  popular  refrain, 
"  What  on  earth  are  they  going  to  live  on  ?  " 
It  was  really  a  very  attractive  little  house, 
most  conveniently  situated,  and  they  might 
not  be  so  happy  elsewhere. 

"  Instead  of  moving,  Tom,  I  intend  to  en 
tertain  more,"  added  Mrs.  Nichols.  "  You 
know  we  have  always  wished  to  entertain 
freely  and  never  felt  able  to.  Now  we  can." 

Tom  nodded  approvingly.  He  did  not 
wish  to  move,  and  he  shared  his  wife's  ambi 
tion  to  be  hospitable.  It  was  pleasant  to 
feel  that  he  could  afford  to  invite  his  friends 
to  the  house  without  being  conscious  of  the 
price  of  oysters.  Their  social  instincts  had 
nearly  ruined  them  on  several  occasions. 
Twice  at  least  they  had  given  a  little  supper 
when  their  exchequer  was  alarmingly  low, 
merely  because  they  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  take  advantage  of  the  witching 
hungry  hour  after  the  theatre. 

"  I  shall  alter  very  little  our  way  of  doing 
things,  except  to  do  them  oftener  and  to  in 
vite  a  few  more  people,"  continued  Mrs.  Nich 
ols,  musingly. 

"  Exactly  my  idea,  Elizabeth." 

"  If  I  did,  I  should  drift  straight  into  the 


BY  IIOOK  OR  CROOK  L>59 

conventional,  every-day,  kettle-drum-giving 
sort  of  woman,  or  we  should  find  ourselves  in 
the  smart  set.  Have  you  ever  reflected,  Tom, 
that  if  you  or  I  had  been  very  rich  when  we 
were  married,  we  should  have  been  in  the 
smart  set  to-day,  starved  in  soul  and  feeding 
off  gold  plates  ?  What  a  terrible  existence  it 
would  be  to  go  on  dining  with  the  same  lit 
tle  set  of  people  three  or  four  times  a  week, 
never  meeting  any  one  else,  and  discussing 
eternally  horses,  precious  stones,  and  butlers ! 
We  should  never  have  been  willing  to  ride 
on  bicycles  or  spend  the  summer  on  an 
abandoned  farm.  Oh,  Tom,  however  rich  we 
may  become,  we  must  never  surround  our 
selves  with  a  gilded  wall  which  shuts  out  of 
view  all  the  world  and  its  interest  except  the 
limited  few  who  eat  truffles  in  their  food 
every  day." 

Elizabeth  Nichols  was  rarely  outwardly 
emotional,  indeed  she  passed  as  a  practical, 
passive  woman  ;  but  there  was  a  little  quaver 
of  intensity  in  her  closing  sentence  which 
prompted  Tom  to  lift  his  right  hand  and  say, 
"  So  help  me,"  by  way  of  expressing  his  in 
tention  not  to  erect  such  a  wall  when  he  be 
came  extremely  wealthy. 


260  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

"  We  must  never  lose  our  independence," 
she  went  on,  "  but  I  should  like  to  branch 
out  just  a  little,  to  have  interesting  people  at 
the  house  in  an  informal  way,  and  entertain 
occasionally  the  strangers  of  note  who  come 
to  town — literary  men,  actors — you  under 
stand." 

Tom  nodded  again.  The  proposition  was 
to  his  liking,  for  it  was  evident  to  him  that 
Mrs.  Nichols  in  branching  out  did  not  intend 
to  banish  the  Welsh  rarebit,  the  oysters  in 
cream,  and  other  delicacies  which  Tom  prided 
himself  on  being  able  to  prepare  on  a  blazer 
so  skilfully  that  the  mouths  of  his  friends 
never  ceased  to  water  until  the  alcohol-lamp 
went  hopelessly  out. 

"  It  will  be  a  delightful  and  improving  ex 
perience  for  Minerva  also,"  said  Mrs.  Nich 
ols.  "  I  feel  her  on  my  mind,  and  if  I  give 
her  the  opportunity  to  meet  agreeable  people 
here,  while  she  is  at  the  receptive  age,  I  shall 
not  blame  myself  if  she  throws  herself  away 
on  some  brainless  individual  hereafter." 

Minerva  Blair  was  Mrs.  Nichols's  first  cou 
sin  once  removed — that  is,  the  only  daughter 
of  her  first  cousin  Matilda  Blair,  who  lived  a 
hundred  miles  away  in  the  country.  Minerva 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  261 

was  a  graduate  of  Yassar,  and  a  handsome, 
graceful  girl  with  decided  talent  as  an  artist. 
She  had  lately  come  to  town  to  try  to  make  a 
name  for  herself  with  her  brush,  and  had  es 
tablished  herself  in  a  studio  under  the  super 
vision  of  her  cousins  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Nichols. 

Tom  nodded  a  third  time.  He  admired 
Minerva  Blair.  She  was  natural  and  unaf 
fected,  with  abundant  spirit  and  an  inquiring 
mind,  and  she  had  style — was  in  good  style, 
which  to  his  artistic  and  fastidious  eye  was 
all-important.  She  would  draw  pleasant 
young  men  to  his  blazer,  and  at  the  same 
time,  as  Elizabeth  had  pointed  out,  she 
would  have  the  opportunity  to  cultivate  her 
self  by  contact  with  interesting  people.  De 
cidedly  here  was  a  reason  for  entertaining  if 
there  were  no  other. 

This  conversation  between  Tom  and  his 
wife  took  place  in  October,  and  it  was  the 
last  week  in  November  before  all  the  furni 
ture  had  been  recovered  and  Mrs.  Nichols  gave 
her  first  entertainment.  It  was  to  be  a  sup 
per  party.  Eight  kindred  spirits,  including 
the  host  and  hostess,  were  to  see  "  Hamlet," 
and  come  back  to  meet  the  famous  actor  who 
impersonated  the  title  role  at  supper.  Fancy, 


262  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

therefore,  the  feelings  of  Mrs.  Nichols  when 
she  received  a  note  from  her  lion  at  five 
o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  the  appointed  day 
stating  that  he  was  suffering  from  the  grippe, 
and  that  his  physician  absolutely  forbade  him 
to  act  except  on  the  proviso  that  he  went  to 
bed  immediately  afterward. 

"  Tom,"  called  Mrs.  Nichols  from  the  top 
of  the  stairs,  when  she  heard  her  husband's 
step  in  the  hall,  "  he  has  the  grippe  and  can't 
come." 

"  Who  has  ?  "  answered  Tom,  though  he 
knew  perfectly  well.  It  was  not  usual  with 
him  to  pretend  ignorance  in  order  to  convict 
his  wife  of  utter  unintelligibility  of  state 
ment,  but  he  had  his  reason  on  this  occasion. 

His  wife,  however,  disdained  to  reply.  She 
merely  waited  for  him  to  come  up  stairs,  then 
thrust  the  note  at  him,  exclaiming,  "  Head 
for  yourself  I " 

Tom  took  what  seemed  to  her  an  everlast 
ing  time  to  complete  this  operation,  as  hus 
bands  are  apt  to  do  when  they  hold  the  key 
to  the  situation  and  are  trying  to  be  myste 
rious. 

"  Well,  dear,"  he  said  at  length,  "  it  might 
be  worse." 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  263 

"  Worse  ?     Howvcould  it  be  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  allow  me  to  finish,  I  will  tell 
you.  It  might  be  worse,  as  I  was  saying 
when  you  interrupted  me,  for  by  what  now 
seems  to  have  been  a  lucky  chance,  I  took  it 
upon  myself  an  hour  ago  to  invite  Harold 
Delaney  and  Signor  Spazzopalli  to  join  us 
at  supper  to-night." 

"  Spazzopalli,  the  new  barytone  ?  " 

"  The  very  same." 

"  Oh,  Tom,  that  was  a  stroke  of  genius." 

"  Harold  Delaney,  who  has  him  in  tow,  had 
been  lunching  him  to-day  at  the  Picnic  Club, 
and  was  still  dilating  on  his  charms  when  I 
dropped  in  there.  Said  I  to  myself,  said  I, 
why  shouldn't  I  ask  him  to  come  to-night 
and  have  a  rarebit  with  the  rest  ?  Harold 
jumped  at  it.  He  says  he  is  a  soulful  creat 
ure." 

"  Harold  always  was  a  goose,  but  he  seems 
to  have  a  faculty  for  intimacies  with  interest 
ing  people.  I  really  believe,  Tom,  that  the 
signer  is  a  better  card  than  the  other.  He 
is  more  of  a  novelty ;  scarcely  any  one  has 
met  him.  He  is  to  sing  at  Mrs.  Willoughby 
Walton's  musical  next  week  at  ever-so-niuch 
a  note,  and  he  may  sing  to  us  for  nothing,  if 


264:  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

he  likes  the  rarebit.  Minerva,  you  are  just 
in  time  to  hear  the  news,"  she  added,  to  her 
cousin,  who  came  gliding  in  for  a  cup  of  tea. 

"  Hamlet  has  the  grippe  and  has  given  out 
for  to-night,  and  Tom  has  invited  Spazzopalli 
instead." 

Miss  Blair  clapped  her  hands  joyously. 

"  How  exciting !  His  concert  yesterday 
was  a  grand  success,  and  everyone  is  dying 
to  meet  him  personally.  Harold  Delaney 
said  to  me  yesterday,  as  we  were  leaving  the 
hall,  that  his  voice  has  all  the  sentiment  of 
the  nightingale  without  its  desperation." 

"  Harold  is  coming  too,"  said  Mrs.  Nichols. 

"  And  not  merely  Harold,"  said  Tom,  with 
an  effort  at  nonchalance. 

"  Whom  else  have  you  asked?"  cried  his 
wife,  tragically,  divining  from  his  manner  that 
he  had  a  confession  to  make. 

"  I  have  asked  Irving  K.  Baker." 

"  That  man ! "  Mrs.  Nichols  sank  on  the 
sofa  in  an  attitude  of  collapse. 

"  I  came  bump  upon  him  in  the  street  just 
after  leaving  the  Picnic  Club,  and — and  Eliz 
abeth,  you  forget  that,  if  he  hadn't  been  on 
the  committee,  my  Foxburgh  plans  might 
never  have  been  accepted." 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  265 

"  Was  that  a  reason  for  inviting  him  to 
supper  to-night  ?  You  had  all  the  rest  of  the 
year  in  which  to  invite  him.  Oh  dear,  what 
shall  I  do  with  him?" 

"Who  is  this  bone  of  contention?"  asked 
Minerva. 

"  A  reporter  whom  we  met  on  the  aban 
doned  farm  where  we  stayed  summer  before 
last.  He  fell  out  of  a  balloon  on  the  Fourth  of 
July  and  on  to  us.  Tom  couldn't  abide  him, 
and  would  have  had  a  pitched  battle  with 
him  but  for  me.  He  and  Professor  Strout, 
his  companion  in  the  balloon,  both  fell  in 
love  with  the  daughter  of  the  abandoned  farm, 
and  the  Professor  won  her." 

"  Oh,  I  remember.  You  wrote  mother 
about  him.  He  sounded  interesting  but  a 
little  dreadful." 

"He  is  interesting,"  said  Tom,  "and  he 
isn't  nearly  as  dreadful  as  he  was.  He  has 
improved  in  appearance,  and  he  tells  me  he 
has  come  here  to  live.  I  told  him  that  he 
must  come  to  see  us,  at  which  he  seemed  to 
hesitate,  and  he  answered  that  he  was  afraid 
he  wasn't  much  of  a  hand  at  meeting  society 
people.  That  maddened  me,  for  if  there  is  a 
reportorial  trick  that  I  abhor  it  is  that  of  re- 


266  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

ferring  to  those  who  give  their  daughters  in 
marriage  with  some  degree  of  ceremony,  and 
when  they  invite  friends  to  dine  don't  permit 
everything  edible  to  be  served  at  once,  as 
1  society  people.'  'See  here,  Baker,' I  said, 
leading  him  into  a  convenient  doorway  so 
that  we  might  have  it  out  squarely,  'that's 
stuff.  All  respectable  and  intelligent  people 
nowadays  are  society  people.  Clergymen's 
sons  and  professors'  daughters  are  vying  in 
the  effort  to  be  gracious  and  graceful.  The 
day  has  passed  in  this  country  when  to  eat 
in  one's  shirt  sleeves,  to  lie  in  one's  boots  on 
the  sofa,  and  to  go  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock  is 
significantly  indicative  of  republican  virtue, 
any  more  than  washing  one's  hands  oftener 
than  once  a  day  or  wearing  a  swallow-tail 
coat  in  the  evening  suggests  to  the  sober 
sentiment  of  the  community  a  want  of  moral 
fibre  or  a  lack  of  patriotism.  "When  the  news 
papers  sneer  at  the  well-bred  as  '  society 
people '  they  are  trying  to  increase  their  cir 
culation  by  consoling  the  vulgar,  and  they 
succeed  very  imperfectly.  It  is  sheer  cant. 
You  are  a  society  person  yourself,  Baker,  and 
you  are  proud  of  it.' ' 

"  Why,  Tom,  you  almost  remind  me  of  him 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  267 

by  your  tirade.  What  did  he  say?  "  asked 
Elizabeth. 

"  That  was  the  strangest  part  of  it.  I 
rather  expected  he  would  get  augry.  In 
stead,  he  looked  at  me  in  a  confused  sort  of 
way,  and  then  answered :  '  It  is  cant.  And 
what  you  say  is  true.  It's  envy  that  breeds 
the  sneer  on  the  reportorial  pen.  As  for 
myself,  I've  come  here  to  live,  and  I'd  be 
glad  to  make  acquaintances.  Two  years  ago 
I  needed  salting  badly,  and  I'm  not  entirely 
cured  to-day,  but  I  know  a  trifle  more  than  I 
did  then.  I'll  come  to  see  you.  How  is 
your  lady  ?  '  " 

"  I  wish  he'd  sprinkle  a  little  salt  on  the 
word  lady  in  that  connection,"  said  Mrs. 
Nichols. 

"  It  was  rather  blood-curdling,  and  nearly 
stifled  the  generous  impulse  which  the  pa 
thos  of  his  surrender  and  utter  humility  had 
aroused  in  me.  I  suppose  you  wish  it 
had.  'Come  to-night,'  I  said.  'My  wife 
has  asked  a  few  friends  to  drop  in  to  sup 
per  after  the  theatre.'  And  he's  coming. 
You  know  you  always  stood  up  for  him, 
Elizabeth." 

"Yes,    on   an   abandoned  farm.     He  was 


268  BY  NOON  OR   CROOK 

splendid  there.  Well,  dear,  if  he's  coming, 
he's  coming.  Oil  and  water  do  not  mix,  but 
possibly  Signor  Spazzopalli  and  Mr.  Irving 
K.  Baker  may.  It  is  your  party  now,  Tom, 
not  mine,  but  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you. 
There  will  be  plenty  to  eat,  but  I  warn  you 
that  if  the  affair  does  not  prove  an  artistic 
success,  I  am  not  to  blame." 

"I  will  devote  myself  to  Mr.  Baker,"  said 
Minerva.  "  You  know  I  like  unconventional 
people,  and  I'm  sure  we  shall  get  on  fa 
mously  together." 

Mrs.  Nichols's  theatre  party  included,  be 
sides  themselves  and  Miss  Blair,  Mrs.  George 
Swan,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Duncan  Seymour,  and 
two  single  men.  Mrs.  Swan  was  a  culti 
vated  and  attractive  woman  of  refined  sensi 
bilities  and  artistic  tastes.  She  took  a  keen 
interest  in  celebrities,  and  she  had  not  met 
Signor  Spazzopalli.  On  the  other  hand, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Duncan  Seymour  had  met  him 
four  times,  although  he  had  been  in  town 
only  three  days.  On  his  arrival  he  had 
found  Mr.  Seymour's  card  with  a  card  of  in 
vitation  to  the  Picnic  Club.  By  the  next 
morning's  post  he  had  received  a  note  run 
ning,  "  My  dear  Signor  Spazzopalli,  will 


BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK  269 

you  come  to  us  for  luncheon  to-day  at  two  ? 
Yours  cordially,  Louise  Seymour."  The 
same  afternoon,  after  luncheon,  Mrs.  Sey 
mour  had  taken  him  to  drive  in  a  phaeton 
for  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  she  considered 
him  now  one  of  her  oldest  friends,  and  spoke 
of  him  as  "that  dear  signer."  She  was  a 
fine  figure  of  a  woman,  with  a  perfervid 
manner.  She  produced  the  effect  of  wishing 
to  embrace  one  on  the  spot,  which  kept  peo 
ple  who  believed  her  glowing  complexion  to 
be  artificial  in  constant  terror.  She  had 
taken  a  strong  fancy  to  Minerva  Blair,  and 
declared  the  intention  of  making  her  a  bohe- 
mian.  She  deemed  herself  one,  and  she  was 
fond  of  saying  that  she  did  not  see  why  men 
should  have  all  the  fun.  By  way  of  living 
up  to  her  principles  she  smoked  occasional 
cigarettes,  took  a  small  gin  cocktail  before 
dinner  when  her  husband  took  his,  and  used 
minor  oaths.  Mr.  Seymour  was  a  hard 
working  and  somewhat  talented  musician, 
who  sympathized  with  his  wife's  ambition 
to  tame  lions,  and  approved  of  her  desire  to 
be  a  good  comrade.  One  of  the  single  men 
was  a  rather  weather-beaten  beau  who  spoke 
languages  and  was  considered  available  where 


270  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

foreigners  were  concerned.  The  other  was  a 
playwright  of  growing  repute. 

Signer  Spazzopalli  and  Harold  Delaney 
arrived  a  few  minutes  after  the  theatre  party. 
Harold  was  what  might  be  called  a  social 
pilot-fish  to  celebrities.  He  could  rush  in 
where  women  would  hesitate,  and  conse 
quently  could  beard  a  lion  in  his  den,  or 
bath  if  need  be,  and  put  a  leading-string 
about  him.  He  and  Mrs.  Seymour  were 
pals,  as  that  lady  called  it,  and  he  invariably 
descanted  on  the  attractions  of  the  musician 
and  his  wife  to  the  animals  he  had  in  tow. 

Mrs.  Seymour  straightway  took  possession 
of  the  singer,  and  proceeded  to  exploit  the 
rest  of  the  company  for  his  comprehension. 
She  beckoned  to  Minerva  to  come  and  be 
introduced. 

"  Signer,  this  is  a  friend  of  mine  who 
adores  your  voice — Miss  Minerva  Blair,  a 
Vassar  girl  and  an  artist.  She  is  a  college 
graduate,  you  know,  and  you  must  see  her 
pictures." 

Spazzopalli  bent  his  long,  lean  figure  in  a 
profound  bow.  He  saw  before  him  a  very 
pretty  girl,  and  beauty  in  any  form  appealed 
to  him. 


BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK  271 

"I  think  I  never  enjoyed  anything  so 
much  as  that  last  song  of  yours  yesterday," 
she  said,  with  simple  directness.  "It  must 
be  glorious  to  be  able  to  enthrall  people  so 
that  they  seem  to  touch  the  stars  for  a  little 
while  at  least." 

"  Mademoiselle  is  too  kind.  Yes,  I  enjoy 
my  art.  And  it  pleasures  me  to  hear  I  make 
people  feel  as  you  say." 

He  spoke  without  hesitation,  in  spite  of 
the  quaintness  of  his  diction.  Eager  enthu 
siasm  shone,  too,  from  his  large  dark  eyes. 
They  were  the  most  striking  feature  of  his 
countenance,  which  otherwise  was  conven 
tional  with  its  smoothly  parted  hair  and 
closely  trimmed  pointed  brown  beard. 

"  Isn't  he  devilish  handsome  ?  "  whispered 
Mrs.  Seymour  in  a  fairly  audible  tone,  as 
Mrs.  Swan  claimed  the  singer's  attention  by 
a  dulcet  remark. 

The  necessity  for  answering  this  inquiry 
was  obviated  for  Minerva  by  the  entrance  of 
Irving  K.  Baker,  whose  aspect  of  novelty 
plainly  altered  the  current  of  Mrs.  Sey 
mour's  thoughts.  "Why,  who  is  that ? "  she 
asked. 

"Mr.    Irving   K.  Baker,  a  friend   of   the 


272  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

Nicholses,"  answered  Minerva.  "  He  is  con 
nected  with  the  press,  I  believe." 

"  How  interesting !  "  said  Mrs.  Seymour, 
rhapsodically.  "I  do  like  new  people.  I 
wonder  what  he  does  ?  " 

Mr.  Baker's  toilet  was  a  relief  to  Elizabeth, 
though  she  had  been  prepared  to  receive  him 
cordially  in  a  cardigan  jacket,  in  case  he 
should  appear  in  that  form  of  evening  dress. 
She  was  an  eminently  considerate  and  rea 
sonable  woman  in  such  matters.  For  in 
stance,  though  she  greatly  preferred,  for 
aesthetic  reasons,  to  have  her  maids  wear 
caps,  she  invariably  yielded  to  their  scruples 
that  it  was  a  badge  of  service,  and  merely  in 
sisted  that  they  should  do  their  hair  neatly. 
But  she  liked  to  see  conventions  respected, 
if  no  one's  feelings  were  lacerated  or  princi 
ples  violated  thereby,  and  it  was  with  a  glow 
of  satisfaction  that  she  perceived  Mr.  Baker 
had  on  a  swallow-tail  coat,  and  that  no  one 
could  cavil  at  his  outward  appearance.  This 
agreeable  consciousness  imparted  perhaps 
extra  cordiality  to  her  greeting. 

"  It  is  very  pleasant  to  see  you  again,"  she 
said,  beaming  upon  him.  "And  what  do  you 
hear  of  our  mutual  friends  the  Strouts  ?  " 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  273 

"In  the  last  letter  which  the  professor 
wrote  me  he  stated  that  he  had  decided  to 
turn  his  talents  as  a  juggler  to  account. 
Henceforward  from  May  to  November  he 
will  devote  himself  to  navigating  the  air,  and 
from  November  to  May  he  will  practise  nec 
romancy,  disguised  as  Herr  Falkenburg,  late 
wizard  extraordinary  to  the  King  of  Greece." 

"To  the  King  of  Greece?" 

"  A  mere  figment  of  the  fancy,  a  pardon 
able  advertising  dodge  which  will  add  a 
certain  glamour  to  his  impersonations  and 
yet  injure  in  no  respect  those  whom  it  de 
ceives." 

"  And  Maretta  ?  What  does  she  think  of 
this  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Nichols. 

"She  is  his  trump  card.  She  figures 
nightly  as  Almeda,  the  Georgian  beauty  and 
gypsy  mind-reader.  The  Georgian  women 
are  the  most  beautiful  in  the  world,  and  Pro 
fessor  Strout  states  that  none  but  the  ini 
tiated  for  a  moment  suspect  that  the  free- 
born  daughter  of  an  abandoned  farm  is  not  a 
genuine  flower  of  Asian  soil.  They  are  billed 
to  perform  here  in  a  fortnight." 

"Next  week?  Tom,  do  you  hear  that? 
We  must  all  go  to  see  them.  Fancy  Maretta 
18 


274  BY  HOOK  OR  CROON 

as  an  Asian  mind-reader !  I  wonder  if  she 
still  says  '  Oh  my  ! '" 

Mr.  Baker  colored  a  little.  "  Our  women 
have  great  powers  of  adaptability,"  he  said. 
"We  should  probably  find  her  wonderfully 
changed." 

"But  no  less  charming,  I'm  sure,"  said 
Elizabeth,  who  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  her 
self. 

Supper  was  now  ready,  or  rather  the  com 
pany  seated  themselves  at  table,  while  Tom 
toyed  with  one  blazer  and  Duncan  Seymour, 
by  special  appointment,  with  another.  There 
was  to  be  a  choice  between  Welsh  rarebit  a 
la  Nichols  and  oysters  in  cream  a  la  Seymour, 
and  each  of  the  cooks  in  question  looked 
gravely  important  in  his  struggles  -with  the 
raw  materials.  Minerva  Blair  found  herself 
next  to  Signer  Spazzopalli  and  opposite 
Mr.  Baker.  She  remembered  her  promise 
to  devote  herself  to  the  reporter,  but  she 
found  some  difficulty  in  doing  so,  owing  to 
the  fact  that  Signor  Spazzopalli,  after  a 
preliminary  show  of  deference  to  his  hostess, 
had  turned  his  head  in  her  direction,  and 
was  giving  utterance  to  a  flow  of  words  the 
charm  of  which  was  heightened  for  her  by 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  275 

the  quaint  turn  of  his  sentences  and  by  the 
accent  with  which  they  were  spoken.  She 
saw,  as  in  a  dream,  cheese  and  beer  galore 
dissolve  into  a  turbid  sea  and  stiffen  into  a 
quagmire.  She  heard  without  hearing  the 
conversation  around  her,  and  the  food  which 
she  put  to  her  lips — was  it  oysters  a  la  Sey 
mour  or  rarebit  a  la  Nichols  ?  She  could  not 
have  stated.  And  the  dear  signor?  Alike 
the  blandishments  of  Mrs.  Swan  and  the 
minor  oaths  of  Mrs.  Duncan  Seymour,  the 
pleasant  prattle  of  one  of  the  single  men  and 
the  genial  stories  of  Mr.  Baker,  seemed  lost 
upon  him.  He  was  devotion  itself  to  Mi 
nerva  Blair,  and  after  the  blazers  had  given 
up  their  feast  and  grown  cold,  he  seated 
himself  at  the  piano  and  sang  "  Non  e  ver  " 
in  a  tremendous  manner.  Here  was  a  ten- 
strike  for  Mrs.  Nichols.  She  forgave  him 
all.  He  had  done  unbidden  what  she  had 
fervently  longed  for,  and  feared  that  he 
might  not  do.  No  matter  what  the  cause  of 
his  singing,  he  had  sung ;  and  what  is  more, 
he  was  going  to  sing  again. 

"  Wasn't  it  damnably  fine  ?  "  whispered 
Mrs.  Seymour,  squeezing  Elizabeth's  hand. 
It  was  because  Mrs.  Seymour's  oaths  were 


276  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

apt  to  be  utterly  inappropriate  that  other 
women  did  not  take  offence  at  them.  Mrs. 
Nichols,  who  naturally  was  elated,  even 
squeezed  her  hand  in  return. 

Spazzopalli  sang  this  time  Tosti's  "  Good- 
by,"  and  there  was  no  mistaking  his  mean 
ing.  He  was  singing  at  and  for  Minerva  in 
true  Italian  style,  and  yet,  of  course,  not  so 
demonstratively  as  to  make  his  homage  other 
wise  than  complimentary  to  her.  She  was 
still  in  a  dream.  Her  eyes  were  not  lowered ; 
she  simply  looked  transported  and  unusually 
handsome.  Mr.  Baker  could  scarcely  take 
his  gaze  off  her.  But  she  had  forgotten  Mr. 
Baker's  existence. 

Mrs.  Seymour  glided  up  to  her  at  the  end 
of  the  second  song  and  nearly  embraced  her. 
"  You  have  bowled  him  over,  dear.  He  sees 
no  one  else  in  the  room.  You  naughty, 
lucky  girl.  Now  I'm  going  to  plan  a  nice 
little  luncheon  for  you  this  week.  There  is 
a  ladies'  room,  you  know,  at  the  Picnic  Club, 
and  I'll  get  Duncan  to  make  arrangements 
for  a  party  of  four.  You  and  the  signor, 
and  Baker  and  I.  Duncan  has  engagements 
and  couldn't  come.  Baker's  queer,  but  he's 
interesting.  We'll  have  a  stunning  old  time. 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  277 

Now  don't  invent  any  excuses,"  she  added,  in 
repulse  of  Minerva's  look  of  shy  protestation. 
"  Let  yourself  go,  child.  Life  is  dregs  unless 
you  let  yourself  go  now  and  then." 

Fifteen  minutes  later  the  party  had  with 
drawn,  except  Irving  K.  Baker,  who,  at  his 
host's  instigation,  had  remained  to  light  a 
cigar.  The  newspaper  man — he  was  now  on 
the  editorial  staff  of  the  largest  paper  in  the 
city  —  had  a  certain  fascination  for  Tom. 
He  was  curious  in  regard  to  him  and  inter 
ested  in  his  development.  There  was  noth 
ing  hackneyed  about  him,  even  though  he 
was  capable  of  flying  in  the  face  of  traditional 
sensibilities.  Tom  was  conscious  of  running 
the  risk  of  becoming  irritated,  but  he  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  of  dallying  with 
him. 

Baker  started  to  go  as  soon  as  his  cigar 
was  lighted,  but  after  putting  on  his  over 
shoes  and  a  muffler,  he  paused  and  said, 
"  What  was  the  name  of  the  profane  lady  ?  " 

Tom  was  nonplussed  for  a  moment,  then 
answered,  with  a  laugh,  "  Oh,  you  mean  Mrs. 
Duncan  Seymour.  Her  bark  is  worse  than 
her  bite,  Baker.  I  mean  her  swear  words 
are  all  on  the  surface." 


278  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

"  She  has  honored  me  with  an  invitation 
to  luncheon." 

"  You  should  accept  by  all  means.  She's 
an  enterprising,  kind-hearted  woman,  whose 
chief  fault  is  that  she  likes  to  pose.  She  be 
lieves  that  little  vulgar  eccentricities  give  her 
artistic  standing,  but  she  means  nothing 
wrong  by  them.  I  assure  you  that  Mrs. 
Seymour  is  very  kind." 

Tom  was  conscious  somehow  of  being  on 
the  defensive,  and  of  feeling  the  necessity  of 
championing  his  guests  so  far  as  he  could 
justly  do  so  in  the  presence  of  this  former 
critic  of  "  society  people." 

"  And  Miss  Blair,  who  is  she  ?  " 

"  She's  a  cousin  of  my  wife,  a  college 
graduate  and  an  art  student,  who  has  come 
here  recently  to  live.  I'm  sure  you'd  like 
her." 

"  I  like  her  already.  She's  an  exception 
ally  charming  woman." 

Tom's  satisfaction  at  being  able  to  praise 
this  second  subject  of  conversation  without 
stint  received  a  slight  check  from  Mr.  Baker's 
impressive  tone.  It  made  him  think  of  the 
evening  when  the  reporter  had  announced  to 
him  his  intention  to  make  the  present  Mrs. 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  279 

Alvin  Strout  his  wife  within  six  hours  after  he 
had  been  introduced  to  her. 

"  All  young  girls  are  very  much  alike,  how 
ever,"  Tom  added,  with  some  duplicity. 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  see  great  differences 
in  them,  far  greater  differences  than  between 
rose  and  rose,  for  instance,"  said  Mr.  Baker, 
nodding  at  a  vase  of  flowers  which  stood  on 
the  hall  table.  "  She  is  a  very  beautiful 
young  lady,"  he  continued.  "  It  will  be  a 
pity  if  that  signer  carries  her  off." 

"  What !  "  asked  Tom,  overwhelmed  by 
the  unconventional  frankness  of  this  remark. 

"  Signor  Spazzopalli.  He  has  his  eye  on 
her." 

"  They  never  met  until  this  evening,  my 
dear  sir." 

"  It  is  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight,  then. 
These  foreigners  come  over  here  to  take  our 
money,  and  they  sneer  at  us  behind  our 
backs.  They  have  no  interest  in  the  institu 
tions  of  this  country  ;  they  regard  it  simply 
as  a  mint  where  they  can  fill  their  pockets 
and  go  home  again  without  a  thought  as  to 
our  aspirations.  Miss  Minerva  Blair  should 
marry  an  American." 

"  Amen  to  that  with  all  my  heart,"  said 


280  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

Tom.     "  But,  frankly,  I  do  not  see  any  im 
mediate  prospect  of  her  marrying  anybody. 

"  I  trust  that  you  are  correct  in  your  sup 
position.  Perhaps,"  added  Mr.  Baker,  re 
flectively,  as  he  stood  on  the  door-step,  "  my 
remarks  may  savor  to  you  of  impertinence 
and  I  seem  to  meddle.  My  interest  in  the 
young  lady  in  question  must  be  my  excuse. 
I  have  only  to  state  that  if  at  any  time  af 
fairs  reach  a  crisis,  I  beg  that  you  will  not 
hesitate  to  call  upon  me.  I  may  be  able  to 
assist  you  in  this  connection.  Good-night." 


II 

ONE  evening  about  a  fortnight  later  Mrs. 
Nichols  was  sitting  at  her  fireside  absorbed 
in  contemplation.  Tom  was  dining  with  a 
club  of  his  fellow-architects,  so  that  she  had 
only  her  own  thoughts  for  company.  These 
thoughts  were  far  from  gratifying.  She  was 
revolving  the  problem  which,  according  to 
Mrs.  Duncan  Seymour,  who  had  visited  her 
that  afternoon,  was  agitating  society — what 
was  to  be  the  upshot  of  Signor  Spazzopal- 
li's  intense  devotion  to  her  cousin,  Minerva 


21Y  HOOK  OH   CROOK  281 

Blair  ?  Mrs.  Seymour  had  called  in  order  to 
assure  her  that  the  rumor  that  the  signor 
had  a  wife  in  Italy  had  been  carefully  inves 
tigated  by  Harold  Delaney,  and  shown  to  be 
utterly  without  foundation.  "I  should  be 
glad  to  know  he  had  six  wives,  if  we  could 
only  prove  it,"  Mrs.  Nichols  murmured  to 
herself  as  she  recalled  the  speech.  It  an 
noyed  her  to  think  that  everyone  should 
take  for  granted  she  desired  the  match,  when 
she  really  abominated  the  idea  of  one.  Mi 
nerva  Blair  marry  a  foreigner !  Minerva 
Blair,  whose  development  had  been  a  source 
of  intense  interest  to  her  ever  since  the  day 
she  had  learned  of  her  young  cousin's  inten 
tion  to  enter  college  !  She  had  watched  her 
and  been  proud  of  her,  and  she  had  encour 
aged  her  to  devote  herself  to  art  as  a  profes 
sion,  when  Minerva's  own  father  and  mother 
would  have  had  her  return  home  and  be 
come  a  conventional  country  daughter  of  the 
house.  And  now  she  was  to  be  whisked  off 
by  an  ardent  Italian  and  merge  her  individ 
uality  in  the  unknown  possessor  of  a  splen 
did  voice !  It  seemed  to  Mrs.  Nichols  al 
most  as  though  she  were  about  to  lose  a 
second  self ;  for  she  was  fond  of  saying  to 


282  BY  ROOK  OR   CROOK 

Tom  that  Minerva  was  what  she  might  have 
been  had  she  gone  to  college,  given  her  ar 
tistic  capabilities  a  chance,  and  refused  to 
sacrifice  her  aspirations  to  the  pertinacious 
advances  of  a  struggling  young  architect. 
But — and  Mrs.  Nichols  frowned  despairing 
ly  at  the  reflection — suppose  Minerva  were 
really  in  love  with  Spazzopalli,  anyone  who 
interfered  might  be  blighting  the  girl's  hap 
piness  for  life.  There  was  the  rub,  and  Mrs. 
Nichols  tapped  her  foot  by  way  of  express 
ing  her  perplexity. 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Irving  K.  Baker  en 
tered,  and,  as  Elizabeth  rose  to  greet  him, 
his  request  to  her  husband  to  apply  to  him, 
if  at  any  time  he  could  be  of  service  in  this 
connection,  came  into  her  mind.  She  and 
Tom  had  enjoyed  several  hearty  laughs  over 
it,  but  now  somehow  the  idea  of  appealing  to 
him  did  not  seem  to  her  in  her  present  frame 
of  mind  quite  so  preposterous.  Perhaps  he 
would  be  able  to  think  of  some  point  of  at 
tack  which  had  escaped  her ;  very  possibly 
he  might  know  something  fatal  against  Sig- 
nor  Spazzopalli — that  he  really  was  mar 
ried,  for  instance,  Harold  Delaney  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding,  or  that  he  was  a 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  283 

vicious  character.  Newspaper  men  know 
many  things  which  are  hidden  from  the 
world  at  large,  and  this  might  be  one  of 
them.  Torn  had  told  her  that  evening  before 
he  went  to  his  dinner-party  that  he  had  not 
been  able  to  glean  a  single  disreputable  item 
against  him.  What  a  triumph  it  would  be 
to  be  able  to  confront  him  on  his  return  with 
splendid  damning  evidence ! 

These  reflections  passed  through  Mrs. 
Nichols's  mind  as  she  listened  to  her  visitor's 
opening  remarks,  which  included  an  an 
nouncement  that  Professor  and  Mrs.  Alvin 
Strout  had  arrived  in  town,  and  that  he 
counted  on  the  pleasure  of  taking  Mrs.  Nich 
ols  and  her  husband  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Duncan 
Seymour  and  Miss  Minerva  Blair  to  one  of 
their  performances.  Mrs.  Nichols  further  re 
flected  that  Mr.  Baker,  in  spite  of  his  lack  of 
social  experience,  evidently  possessed  social 
instincts,  in  that  he  was  trying  to  kill  three 
birds  with  a  single  stone — one  bird  being 
Tom  and  herself,  who  had  invited  him  to 
supper,  another  bird  being  the  Seymours, 
who  had  invited  him  to  luncheon  and  been 
generally  kind  to  him,  and  the  third  bird  be 
ing  Minerva,  whom  he  evidently  desired  to 


284  BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK 

kill  for  lier  own  sweet  self.  She  answered 
that  so  far  as  she  could  speak  for  the  others 
she  had  every  reason  to  think  they  would  all 
be  charmed  to  go.  As  she  did  so  the  conun 
drum  propounded  itself  to  her,  as  conun 
drums  of  this  kind  sometimes  will,  in  case 
she  were  forced  to  choose  between  Spazzo- 
palli  and  Irving  K.  Baker  for  Minerva,  which 
of  the  two  she  would  select.  In  her  anxiety 
to  decide  she  found  herself  examining  the 
young  man  attentively.  He  looks  honest, 
she  thought,  and  as  though  he  has  ideas  of 
his  own,  however  odd  they  may  be  ;  he  has 
spruced  himself  since  the  day  he  fell  from 
the  balloon,  and  appears  very  much  like 
everybody  else.  This  diagnosis  did  not 
enable  her  to  decide  whether  she  would  ad 
judge  him  less  undesirable  than  the  signor 
as  a  husband  for  Minerva,  but  she  said  to 
herself  :  "  I  will  consult  him  as  to  what  we 
can  do.  He  will  never  realize  how  queer  it 
is  of  me." 

"  Mr.  Baker,"  she  said,  a  few  moments  la 
ter,  seizing  a  favorable  opportunity,  "  do  you 
happen  to  know  anything  definite  concerning 
Signor  Spazzopalli — more  than  we  who  met 
him  in  society  see  and  know  ?  I  have  a  par- 


BY  HOOK  OR  CHOOK  285 

ticular  reason  for  wishing  to  be  told  every 
thing  there  is  to  tell,  so  I  take  the  liberty  of 
asking  you  the  question." 

Mr.  Baker  shook  his  head.  "  What  is  it 
you  wish  to  find  out  ?  "  he  added,  rather  ea 
gerly.  "Perhaps  as  a  newspaper  man  I  might 
be  able  to  assist  you." 

"  You  do  not  happen  to  know,  for  in 
stance,  whether  he  is  married  or  not  ?  " 

"  Married  ?  Have  you  heard  that  he  is 
married  ?  It  would  be  the  simplest  thing  in 
the  world  to  ascertain  by  cabling.  I  will 
cable  to-morrow,  at  my  expense,  and  find  out 
for  you,  Mrs.  Nichols."  He  stopped  short 
and  looked  at  her  inquiringly  as  though  a 
new  idea  had  struck  him.  "  Would  you  like 
to  discover  that  he  is  married  ?  " 

Mrs.  Nichols  hesitated  a  moment,  then, 
with  the  engaging  frankness  of  one  who,  hav 
ing  seized  a  bull  by  the  horns,  appreciates 
that  she  must  adapt  herself  to  the  situation, 
answered :  "  I  am  going  to  take  you  into  my 
confidence,  Mr.  Baker.  Signor  Spazzopalli 
is  paying  what  appears  to  be  serious  atten 
tion  to  my  cousin,  Miss  Blair.  We  have  rea 
son  to  believe  that  he  may  wish  to  marry  her. 
One  solution  of  the  matter,  of  course,  would 


28G  BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK 

be  to  ascertain  that  he  is  already  married  to 
someone  else ;  but  inquiries  made  by  others 
lead  me  to  believe  that  there  is  little  hope  of 
that." 

"  But  you  would  be  glad  to  find  it  true  ? 
You  are  opposed  to  the  match  ?  " 

"I  am  opposed  to  nothing  that  would  lead 
to  my  cousin's  happiness.  But  I  will  admit 
that  I  do  not  fancy  the  idea  of  her  marriage 
to  this  foreigner." 

"  If  you  will  allow  me  to  make  the  observa 
tion,  Mrs.  Nichols,  I  have,  on  every  occasion 
where  an  opportunity  for  the  display  of  wis 
dom  has  presented  itself,  had  reason  to  ad 
mire  your  sagacity  and  good  sense." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Elizabeth,  with  a  little 
courtesy.  "  And  it  is  because  you  have  such 
a  fresh,  original  way  of  looking  at  things  that 
I  have  dared  to  ask  your  advice.  Now  we 
are  quits.  But  let  me  say  right  here,  Mr. 
Baker,  that  if  I  believed  in  my  heart  that  my 
cousin  were  really  in  love  with  this  man,  I 
would  rather  lose  my  tongue  than  breathe  a 
word  of  conspiracy  against  him.  I  have  not 
talked  with  her  on  the  subject,  for  she  has 
not  broached  it  to  me,  and  that  has  sealed 
my  lips.  I  am  sure,  though,  that  she  is  fas- 


"  I    AM   GOING   TO   TAKE   YOU    INTO   MY   CONFIDENCE 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  287 

cinated  by  him,  and  under  the  spell  of  the 
glamour  which  his  magnificent  voice  casts 
about  him.  She  is  young,  ardent,  and  im 
pressionable,  and  I  firmly  believe  that  his  in 
fluence  is  merely  a  spell,  which  any — er — 
prosaic  facts  concerning  him  would  dissipate. 
I  wish  at  least  to  discover  all  that  I  can  con 
cerning  him,  so  that  she  may  make  her  choice 
with  her  eyes  open.  It  may  be  bias  and  prej 
udice  which  affects  me,  but  I  cannot  help 
feeling  that  he  is  not  altogether  worthy  of 
her,  Mr.  Baker." 

"  Amen,  madam,  amen !  He  is  no  more 
worthy  of  her  than  the  swine  is  worthy  of 
the  pearl  which  tradition  casts  into  the  sty 
to  typify  human  squandering." 

"  And  yet,  really,  Mr.  Baker,  there  is  noth 
ing  definite  against  him." 

"We  must  discover  something."  Baker 
pressed  his  thin,  nervous  lips  together  and 
felt  of  his  forehead.  At  length  he  tapped  it. 
"  I  think  I  appreciate  the  situation,"  he  said. 
"  As  I  understand  it,  there  has  been  as  yet  no 
offer  of  marriage  ?  " 

"  None  to  my  knowledge.  Minerva  would 
surely  have  told  me." 

"  And    you    would    be    pleased   to    have 


288  BY  HOOK  OH   CROOK 

something  happen  before  matters  reach  a 
crisis  ?  " 

"  Happen  ?  "  echoed  Elizabeth,  in  a  tone 
of  some  solicitude,  induced  by  the  thought  of 
the  sudden  disappearance  of  the  signer  over 
a  bridge  or  down  a  well. 

Mr.  Baker  was  quick  to  divine  her  suspi 
cions.  "I  mean,"  he  said,  with  a  sweep  of 
his  hand,  by  which  he  intended  to  relegate 
to  the  winds  such  base  imaginings,  "  that  you 
would  be  pleased  to  have  this  foreigner  by 
his  own  agency  show  himself  in  his  true 
colors,  so  that  the  glamour  which  now  blinds 
Miss  Minerva  Blair's  eyes  may  be  swept  away 
forever." 

"  That  would  be  very  nice,"  said  Mrs. 
Nichols,  propitiatingly. 

"I  say 'by  his  own  agency,' "  continued 
Mr.  Baker,  gravely,  "for  I  have  taken  it  for 
granted  that  in  a  transaction  of  this  kind 
mere  newspaper  enterprise  would  be  dis 
tasteful  to  you.  Of  course  it  would  be  a  sim 
ple  matter,  and  the  idea  at  first  struck  me  as 
propitious,  to  manufacture  a  wife  and  chil 
dren  for  Signor  Spazzopalli  by  special  cable 
gram  from  Rome.  But  apart  from  the  du 
plicity  of  such  a  proceeding,  which,  knowing 


BY  IIOOK  OR  CROOK  289 

as  I  do  the  views  held  by  you  and  Mr.  Nichols 
on  the  proper  limits  of  reportorial  activity,  I 
am  sure  you  would  refuse  to  countenance, 
there  is  the  further  consideration,  to  which 
you  have  already  referred,  of  Miss  Blair's 
happiness.  In  spite  of  the  adage, '  All  is  fair 
in  love  and  war,'  I  should  scorn  to  lower  the 
reputation  of  this  foreigner  in  her  regard  by 
false  or  dishonest  evidence.  He  must  con 
tribute  to  his  own  ruin." 

"  I  am  very  much  relieved  to  hear  you  say 
so,  Mr.  Baker.  Indeed,  it  would  be  utterly 
impossible  for  me  to  allow  you  to  proceed  on 
any  other  understanding.  My  desire  is  to 
discover  any  shortcomings  which  Signor 
Spazzopalli  may  have,  not  to  injure  him  by 
fabrication.  My  cousin  evidently  believes 
him  to  be  wholly  sincere,  true,  and  irre 
proachable,  and  my  conviction  is  that  she 
will  marry  him,  unless — unless  she  changes 
her  mind."  Elizabeth  gave  a  nervous  laugh. 
"  There  is  the  situation,  and  I  must  confess 
that  it  does  not  look  very  promising.  Does 
it?" 

"  I  consider  it  far  from  hopeless.     At  any 
rate,  Mrs.  Nichols,  you  may  feel  sure  that  I 
will  devote  myself  body  and  soul  to  the  un- 
19 


290  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

dertaking.  You  shall  hear  from  me  very 
soon." 

"  You  are  not  going  already  ?  " 

"  Yes.  There  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost. 
We  newspaper  men  know  the  importance  of 
keeping  our  fingers  on  the  forelock  of  time. 
Have  you  a  telephone  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Matters  may  reach  a  point  where  a  wit 
ness — a  witness  whose  testimony  would  be 
entirely  convincing  to  Miss  Blair — would  be 
indispensable.  In  such  an  emergency  am  I 
authorized  to  ring  you  up  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Elizabeth,  a  little  dis 
concerted.  The  detective-like  determination 
of  her  visitor  was  almost  appalling. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said,  holding  out  his 
hand. 

"  You  have  a  plan  already,  I  see." 

"  I  have  an  idea,  but  it  may  end  in  smoke. 
Good-night,  Mrs.  Nichols." 

When  he  had  gone,  Elizabeth  knew  scarcely 
whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry.  Into  what  sort 
of  a  compact  had  she  entered,  and  where 
would  it  lead  her  ?  To  be  sure,  her  fellow- 
conspirator  had  pledged  himself  to  do  noth 
ing  which  would  lead  her  to  the  gallows  or 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  291 

injure  her  self-respect,  but  what  did  she  really 
know  about  him  ?  What  horrible  breach  of 
t;istii  might  he  not  commit  which  would  drag 
her  into  unpleasant  notoriety  and  wound  the 
sensibilities  of  her  cousin  ?  There  was  a  pos 
sibility  of  that,  indeed  ;  at  least  she  could  not 
claim  a  sufficient  knowledge  of  Mr.  Baker's 
mental  processes  and  habits  to  be  absolutely 
sure  that  he  would  be  discreet.  And  yet  she 
had  entered  into  the  conspiracy  with  her  eyes 
open,  because  she  was  impressed  with  the 
idea  that  if  anyone  could  help  her  in  this 
quandary  he  could,  and  because  she  believed 
he  could  be  trusted.  As  she  had  told  him  to 
his  face,  his  thoughts  had  freshness  and  orig 
inality  ;  he  was  not  tied  down  by  codes  and 
filigree  considerations.  Some  mode  of  relief 
might  enter  his  head  which  would  never  enter 
hers. 

"  Tom,  Tom,"  she  said  to  her  husband 
when  he  came  home  an  hour  later,  "you  may 
see  my  picture  in  the  Police  Gazette  before  I 
am  a  month  older." 

Tom  Nichols  did  not  take  so  serious  a  view 
of  the  situation  as  this.  The  idea  that  his 
wife  had  unbosomed  herself  to  Mr.  Baker 
amused  him  chiefly.  He  summed  up  his 


292  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

opinion  of  the  case  by  saying  :  "  After  his 
assurances,  I  think  that  you  can  feel  moder 
ately  safe  that  he  will  do  nothing  compromis 
ing.  What  I  wonder  at  is  your  confidence  in 
his  ability  to  find  out  anything  about  our  mu 
sical  friend.  A  bogus  cablegram  might  be  in 
his  line,  but  I  doubt  his  capacity." 

"  You  have  always  done  Mr.  Baker  injus 
tice,  Tom,  merely  because  he  is  different  from 
you  and  me.  It  is  just  because  he  is  differ 
ent  that  I  have  such  faith  in  him.  After  the 
first  glow  of  reportorial  activity  he  saw  the  im 
possibility  of  the  cablegram  as  fully  as  I  did." 

For  the  next  few  days  Elizabeth  was  on 
tenter-hooks,  but  no  message  came  from  Mr. 
Baker.  She  kept  her  ear  constantly  on  the 
alert  for  the  telephone-bell,  and  answered 
every  call  in  person,  only  to  listen  to  the 
butcher  or  the  grocer.  On  the  fourth  day 
came  a  note  signed  by  him  which  brought  her 
heart  into  her  mouth,  but  it  was  only  to  tell 
her  that  he  had  secured  tickets  to  see  the 
Strouts  for  the  following  week.  Not  a  word 
on  the  other  matter  to  which  he  had  vowed 
to  devote  himself  body  and  soul.  Elizabeth 
said  "Pshaw!"  and  threw  his  note  into  the 
fire. 


BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK  293 

On  the  tenth  day  Mrs.  Duncan  Seymour, 
whose  husband  was  absent  from  town  for  a 
few  days,  dined  with  them.  It  was  a  low 
ering,  oppressive  night  out-doors,  and  the 
weather  bureau  had  issued  prophecies  of  an 
electrical  storm  as  a  sort  of  midwinter  trav 
esty  on  summer. 

"  I  have  a  new  devoted  admirer,"  said  Mrs. 
Seymour  in  the  midst  of  dinner.  "  You  would 
never  guess — Baker.  He  says  he  has  been 
bitten  by  the  tarantula  of  society,  and  appar 
ently  I  am  the  tarantula  personified.  He 
utterly  disapproves  of  me,  but  can't  resist  my 
fascination.  Now  as  for  you,  my  dear,"  she 
added,  "  he  admires  you  unreservedly." 

"  Elizabeth  has  bound  herself  hand  and 
foot — "  began  Tom,  but  his  wife  interject 
ed  a  commanding  "  'sh  !  "  which  he  felt  con 
strained  to  obey. 

"  This  sounds  interesting,"  said  Mrs.  Sey 
mour,  with  an  appealing  glance  at  Mr.  Nich 
ols. 

"  I  positively  forbid  you  to  go  on,  Tom," 
said  Elizabeth. 

Mrs.  Seymour  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 
"There  is  a  mystery  here,"  she  said.  " He 
will  tell  me ;  I  will  hypnotize  him  if  he  re- 


294  BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK 

fuses.  What  do  you  think,  Elizabeth  ?  I  have 
bet  him  a  pair  of  gloves  that  Signor  Spazzo- 
palli  marries  Minerva.  He  declares  it  will 
never  be.  He  is  almost  violent  on  the  sub 
ject.  One  would  almost  suppose  that  he 
knew  something  definite,  so  positive  is  he." 

Mr.  Nichols  gave  a  low  chuckle. 

"Behave  yourself,  Tom,"  said  his  wife. 
"Louise,"  she  added,  "I  wish  to  change  the 
conversation." 

There  were  no  further  allusions  to  Mr. 
Baker  after  dinner,  and  at  ten  o'clock  Mrs. 
Seymour's  carriage  was  announced.  Just 
then  there  was  a  distant  but  distinct  rumble 
heralding  the  approach  of  the  storm. 

"  Old  Prob  is  right  for  once,"  said  Tom. 
"  You  will  just  have  time,  Mrs.  Seymour,  to 
get  home  before  the  thunder  and  lightning 
set  in." 

At  that  instant  the  telephone  -  bell  rang 
energetically. 

"  Mercy  !  "  cried  Elizabeth.  "  Who  can  be 
calling  us  up  at  this  hour  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  the  storm  is  making  the  electrical 
fluid  rampant,"  suggested  Mrs.  Seymour. 

"Or  it  may  be  Mr.  Baker,"  said  Tom, 
facetiously. 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  295 

Ting-a-ling  —  a-ling  —  a-ling  began  the 
telephone-bell  again. 

At  the  mention  of  the  word  "  Baker,"  Eliza 
beth  darted  from  the  room  and  dashed  down 
stairs  to  the  instrument. 

"Holloa!" 

"  Is  that  Mrs.  Nichols  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  I'm  Mr.  Baker.  It's  very  important  that 
you  come  at  once  to  Leblanc's  restaurant.  I 
invite  you  and  Mr.  Nichols  to  supper,  and 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  before 
an  hour  elapses  we  shall  have  won." 

"  To-night !  It  is  going  to  thunder  and 
lighten." 

"  We  have  been  providentially  aided  by  the 
elements.  It  is  to-night  or  probably  never." 

Women  think  rapidly  when  they  think  at 
all.  Mrs.  Nichols  remembered  that  Mrs. 
Seymour's  carriage  was  at  the  door,  and  a 
sudden  impulse  seized  her.  Would  it  not 
add  sweetness  to  the  possibly  impending 
triumph  of  Mr.  Baker  to  win  his  pair  of 
gloves  in  the  presence  of  her  guest  ? 

"Mrs.  Duncan  Seymour  is  dining  with  us? 
May  I  bring  her  too  ?  " 

"  By  all  means." 


296  BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK 

"  "We'll  come  at  once  then." 

"  Tom,"  she  said,  turning  to  her  husband 
and  Mrs.  Seymour,  who  had  been  lured  by 
curiosity  half-way  down  the  back  stairs, 
"  we're  to  take  supper  to-night  at  Leblanc's 
restaurant  with  Mr.  Baker.  You  too,  Louise. 
He  has  just  invited  us." 

"  Now  this  is  what  I  call  damnably  excit 
ing — exciting  and  shrouded  in  mystery,"  said 
Mrs.  Seymour. 

"To-night!  Are  you  crazy,  my  dear?" 
asked  her  husband.  "Drag  us  out  in  this 
storm  ?  " 

"I  am  going,  Tom,"  said  Elizabeth,  firmly. 

"  And  I  am  going,  Mr.  Nichols,"  said  Mrs. 
Seymour. 

"  Then  there  is  no  help  for  me  but  to  go 
too,"  said  he. 

Within  five  minutes  they  were  in  Mrs. 
Seymour's  carriage  on  the  way  to  Leblanc's, 
which  was  only  a  short  distance  from  the 
house.  It  had  not  begun  to  rain,  biit  the 
sky  was  lurid  with  the  approaching  storm 
and  the  thunder  was  getting  vehement.  Mrs. 
Seymour  sought  explanation  by  a  question 
or  two,  but  Elizabeth  sat  tongue-tied.  As 
their  vehicle  stopped  at  the  entrance  Mr. 


BY  HOOK  OH   CROOK  297 

Baker  opened  the  carriage-door,  and  with 
merely  a  word  of  greeting  led  the  way  past 
the  public  restaurant  upstairs  into  a  private 
room.  The  table  was  laid  for  four. 

"  We  have  been  providentially  aided  by 
the  elements,"  he  repeated  in  a  whisper  to 
Elizabeth  as  he  helped  her  to  remove  her 
wraps.  "Does  she  know  ?  " 

"Nothing.  Are  you  going  to  win  the 
gloves  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so.  He  is  there,"  he  added, 
nodding  at  the  wall. 

"  Spazzopalli  ?     In  the  next  room  ?  " 

"Yes." 

What  could  it  mean?  Elizabeth  felt  ex 
cited  but  dazed.  Mrs.  Seymour  glanced 
around  her  with  a  curious  smile.  As  for 
Tom,  he  promptly  obeyed  Mr.  Baker's  in 
vitation  to  sit  down  and  partake  of  the 
tempting  viands  which  were  set  before  them. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,"  said  their  host,  "  if 
I  am  unable  to  give  you  my  individual  atten 
tion.  You  will  know  why  presently." 

"  We  can't  imagine  what  this  is  all  about," 
said  Tom.  "  Can  we,  Mrs.  Seymour  ?  But 
these  oysters  look  very  good,  even  if  I  did 
not  cook  them." 


298  BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK 

Mr.  Baker  had  vanished  into  what  seemed 
to  be  a  closet  in  the  side  of  the  room  adjoin 
ing  that  in  which  he  had  declared  Signer 
Spazzopalli  to  be.  He  popped  out  his  head 
several  times  by  way  of  keeping  the  eye  of 
courtesy  on  his  guests,  and  disappeared 
promptly  again  after  a  few  solicitous  in 
quiries.  Tom  was  the  only  one  of  the  trio 
who  was  able  to  eat.  Mrs.  Nichols's  appetite 
was  ruined  by  excited  anticipation,  Mrs. 
Seymour's  by  burning  curiosity.  The  thun 
der-storm  had  broken,  and  it  was  audibly 
raining  torrents,  while  every  few  moments 
the  lightning,  closely  followed  by  a  crashing 
peal,  was  so  unusual  as  to  attract  even  their 
absorbed  attention. 

Mr.  Baker  peeped  from  the  door  again. 
"  Mrs.  Nichols,"  he  said,  "  will  you  come  this 
way  ?  Only  Mrs.  Nichols,"  he  was  obliged 
to  add,  for  Mrs.  Seymour  rose  also,  and  Tom 
looked  inquisitive. 

"With  a  tripping  heart  Elizabeth  obeyed 
orders.  She  found  herself  in  a  small  com 
partment  lighted  by  a  single  jet.  It  was 
evidently  designed  to  serve  as  a  pantry  to 
either  or  both  rooms,  for  there  was  a  dumb 
waiter  in  one  end  and  a  counter  along  the 


BY  IIOOK  OR   CROOK  299 

wall.  In  the  middle  of  the  wall  over  the 
counter  was  an  aperture  guarded  by  a  slide. 
The  slide  was  now  only  partially  drawn  so 
as  to  afford  a  glimpse  of  the  other  room. 
On  the  counter  was  a  large  black  box  which 
Mr.  Baker  pushed  to  one  side  as  she  entered. 
"  Look  through  the  hole,"  he  whispered. 

To  do  so  Elizabeth  was  obliged  to  stoop. 
What  she  saw  was  a  man  and  a  woman 
seated  at  a  table  at  supper.  The  man  was 
Signor  Spazzopalli.  He  was  bending  de 
votedly  toward  the  woman  with  the  air  of 
one  bent  upon  ingratiating  himself.  The 
woman  was  extremely  pretty  and  piquant, 
suggesting  by  both  her  air  and  costume  an 
actress.  Somehow  it  seemed  to  Elizabeth 
that  she  had  seen  her  before. 

"Do  you  recognize  her?"  whispered  Mr. 
Baker. 

A  sudden  intuition  seized  Elizabeth.  "  Ma- 
retta ! "  she  gasped. 

Mr.  Baker  nodded  delightedly.  He  deftly 
closed  the  slide  to  render  conversation  less 
hazardous,  though,  as  subsequently  appeared, 
the  waiter  who  was  serving  the  supper  had 
received  instructions  to  approach  the  slide 
now  and  then  when  in  the  room  in  order 


300  BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK 

to  give  the  impression  that  it  was  in  actual 
use. 

"  He  is  desperately  enamoured  of  her." 

"And  she  with  him?" 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  The  idea  came  to  me 
when  I  was  at  your  house  the  other  evening, 
and  I  went  straight  to  her  hotel  the  next 
morning,  where  I  found  her  alone.  'Ma- 
retta,'  said  I,  'I  loved  you  sincerely,  and 
tried  to  make  you  Mrs.  Irving  K.  Baker. 
The  professor  cut  me  out.  I  have  come  in 
the  name  of  auld  laiig-syne  to  ask  you  a 
great  favor.  A  young  friend  of  mine,  a 
beautiful  young  lady,  is  in  the  thrall  of  a 
spaghetti-eating  Italian,  and  I  need  your 
aid.'  '  Tell  me  all  about  it,'  she  said,  and  I 
did.  She  got  her  husband's  permission,  and 
here  she  is." 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"She  wrote  to  him  and  led  him  to  believe 
that  she  was  fascinated  by  his  manly  form 
and  mellifluous  voice.  He  nibbled  at  the 
bait,  and  here  we  have  him.  Don't  give 
yourself  any  concern  on  the  score  of  propri 
ety,  Mrs.  Nichols,"  he  added,  noting  a  cloudy 
look  on  Elizabeth's  brow,  "  Maretta  is  spot 
less  as  an  angel.  She  accepted  his  invitation 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  301 

to  supper  only  after  consultation  with  me. 
He  means  mischief,  though." 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  now  that 
you  have  them  here  ?  " 

Mr.  Baker  tapped  his  black  box  signifi 
cantly. 

"  You  will  see  in  a  minute.  You  invite 
your  husband  and  Mrs.  Seymour  to  witness 
the  finale,  if  you  like,"  he  said,  opening  the 
slide  cautiously  to  its  full  capacity. 

Just  then  there  came  a  glare  of  lightning 
fiercer  than  its  fellows,  and  a  crash  of  thun 
der  which  shook  the  building. 

"Oh  my!"  exclaimed  Maretta,  in  genuine 
dismay. 

"  It  is  she,  sure  enough,"  murmured  Eliz 
abeth.  "How  handsome  she  has  grown  to 
be !  Eeally,  Mr.  Baker,  you  must  tell  me 
what  you  mean  by  all  this." 

"  Tell  the  others  while  I  get  ready.  This 
storm  shows  that  Providence  is  in  league 
with  us." 

Elizabeth  stepped  into  the  room  and  beck 
oned  to  the  others. 

"  You  have  been  infernally  cruel,"  said 
Mrs.  Seymour.  "I  am  critically  ill  with 
suppressed  curiosity." 


302  BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK 

"When  they  entered  the  closet  Mr.  Baker 
had  filled  up  more  than  half  the  aperture 
with  the  black  box,  into  which  he  was  peer 
ing  after  the  manner  of  a  photographer. 
There  was  still  a  vacant  hole,  however, 
through  which  Tom  and  Mrs.  Seymour 
looked. 

"  The  villain  !  "  whispered  Mrs.  Seymour. 
"  I  have  seen  him  gaze  into  Minerva's  face 
like  that  a  dozen  times.  This  is  confound 
edly  perfidious.  Who  is  she  ?  " 

"  Yes,  who  is  she  ?  "  asked  Tom.  "  I  ad 
mire  the  brute's  taste,  anyway." 

"  'Sh  !  Can't  you  tell  ?  It  is  Almeda,  the 
Georgian  beauty,  alias  Maretta  Strout." 

Tom  gave  a  low  whistle. 

"  Mrs.  Nichols,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  rising 
from  the  squatting  posture  in  which  he  had 
been  peering  into  his  box,  "  please  take  your 
husband's  place,  and  when  you  and  Mrs. 
Seymour  see  anything  particularly  edifying, 
say  ( Now.'  If  you,  Mr.  Nichols,  will  hold 
this  pan  of  combustibles,  and  when  your 
wife  gives  the  word,  touch  it  off  with  this 
taper,  I'll  attend  to  the  rest.  To  do  the 
trick  successfully  we  must  all  act  together. 
That's  right,"  he  added,  as  another  flash  of 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  303 

lightning  interrupted  him ;  "  the  more  of 
that  the  better  for  us." 

Mrs.  Nichols  took  her  place  in  silence  be 
side  Mrs.  Seymour.  It  was  obvious  now  to 
her  what  was  going  to  happen. 

Spazzopalli  and  Maretta  had  finished  eat 
ing,  and  he  was  talking  to  her  with  an  in- 
tenser  manner,  now  and  again  raising  his 
glass  of  champagne  and  pledging  her  ardent 
ly.  She  sat  demure,  with  a  playful  smile  on 
her  lips  ;  only  once  she  shot  a  glance  toward 
the  ambush,  as  though  to  ask  how  much 
longer  the  corned}'  was  to  last. 

"  The  monster !  "  murmured  Mrs.  Sey 
mour.  "  He  must  catch  one  of  those  fiery 
love-sick  glances.  He  looked  just  like  that 
when  he  sang  '  Non  e  ver '  to  Minerva." 

Mrs.  Nichols  sat  very  still.  Though  she 
was  half  conscious  that  she  disapproved  of 
the  whole  proceeding,  there  was  a  deep  fas 
cination  in  the  duty  which  had  been  imposed 
upon  her,  and  an  inclination  to  carry  it  out 
as  completely  as  possible.  She  watched  the 
couple  with  lynx-like  scrutiny,  intent  to  note 
every  change  of  Spazzopalli 's  expression.  If 
her  cousin  was  to  be  avenged  or  disillusion 
ized  in  this  strange  manner,  the  blow  must 


304  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

be  struck  deftly  and  artistically.  Thrice 
Mrs.  Seymour  nudged  her  as  some  fresh 
glance  or  gesture  was  manifested,  but  she 
did  not  yet  feel  satisfied.  Meantime  the 
fury  of  the  storm  waxed,  and  ever  and  again 
vivid  flashes  of  lightning,  of  which  at  least 
one  of  the  pair  at  the  supper-table  seemed 
wholly  regardless,  came  in  from  the  night. 

Suddenly,  as  though  the  demure  smiling 
calm  of  the  woman  had  maddened  him, 
Spazzopalli  leaned  forward  across  the  nar 
row  table  and  caught  Maretta's  hands  in  his. 
For  an  instant  she  struggled,  then  either  ap 
preciating  the  advantages  of  the  situation,  or 
realizing  that  the  firm  grasp  of  his  long  fin 
gers  was  not  to  be  frustrated,  she  remained 
passive,  and  smiled  back  at  him  languorous 
ly.  Lured  by  his  success  and  her  demeanor, 
he  leaned  forward  to  bring  his  lips  close  to 
hers.  Just  as  they  seemed  to  touch,  and 
with  Mrs.  Seymour's  "  He  is  going  to  kiss 
her !  "  still  in  her  ears,  Elizabeth,  in  a  tense 
voice,  said  "  Now !  "  and  quick  as  thought 
there  was  a  vivid  flare  of  light,  which  sug 
gested  for  a  moment  to  those  inside  the 
closet  that  Vesuvius  was  let  loose,  and 
caused  Spazzopalli  to  leap  to  his  feet  in  the 


HE   WAS   TALKING   TO  HER   WITH   AN   INTENSER    MANNER 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  305 

belief  that  the  house  had  been  struck  by 
lightning.  The  smoke  which  followed  the 
glare  by  which  the  flash-light  photograph 
was  obtained  concealed  everything  for  a  mo 
ment  from  Elizabeth,  but  she  heard  distinct 
ly  Maretta's  "  Oh  my !  "  which  even  fore 
knowledge  of  what  was  to  happen  and  the 
consciousness  of  her  Georgian  nationality 
could  not  repress.  When  she  could  see, 
Spazzopalli  had  opened  the  door  and  was 
calling,  loudly  :  "  Garcon !  gargon  !  The 
lightning  is  in  the  house  !  " 

Before  the  summons  was  answered,  Mr. 
Baker  had  noiselessly  closed  the  slide  and 
opened  the  closet  door. 

"  If  you  will  step  into  the  room,"  he  said, 
"  I  shall  be  able  in  a  few  minutes  to  tell  you 
if  the  flash-light  photograph  is  a  success." 

Tom  and  his  wife  and  Mrs.  Seymour 
obeyed  orders,  and  Mr.  Baker  shut  himself 
up  again  in  the  closet  to  make  the  necessary 
investigation. 

"  Well,  of  all  extraordinary  performances, 
that  is  the  masterpiece,"  burst  out  Tom.  "I 
don't  quite  know  whether  to  throttle  Baker 
as  a  sneak,  or  to  applaud  him  as  a  genius." 

"  I  think  it  was  very  clever  of  him,"  said 
20 


306  BY  HOOK  OR   CROOK 

Mrs.  Seymour,  promptly.  "The  signor  de 
served  to  be  shown  up  if  ever  man  did.  The 
false,  hypocritical  villain  !  When  1  think  of 
Minerva  I  feel  like  crying.  Mr.  Baker  did 
nothing,  Mr.  Nichols,  but  put  temptation  in 
his  way,  and  if  a  man  who  pretends  to  be  in 
love  with  one  woman  throws  her  oter  for  an 
other,  why  shouldn't  he  be  photographed  and 
branded  as  a  faithless  wretch  ?  Don't  you 
think  so,  Elizabeth?" 

Mrs.  Nichols  had  seated  herself  at  the  dis 
mantled  supper-table,  and,  buried  in  pensive 
thought,  was  spearing  the  same  oyster  over 
and  over  again.  She  did  not  answer,  and 
before  Mrs.  Seymour  had  time  to  repeat  her 
question,  Mr.  Baker  reappeared  with  a  radi 
ant  countenance. 

"  It  is  perfect !  "  he  cried.  "  You  caught 
him,  Mrs.  Nichols,  at  exactly  the  right  mo 
ment.  I  congratulate  you  heartily ;  and, 
Mrs.  Seymour,  you  owe  me  a  pair  of  gloves." 

"What  makes  you  think  she  does?"  asked 
Elizabeth,  coldly,  making  another  thrust  at 
the  mangled  oyster. 

"Because  when  Miss  Blair  confronts  Si 
gnor  Spazzopalli  with  this  photograph,  I 
assure  you  that  he  will  renounce  any  matri- 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  307 

monial  expectations  which  he  now  enter 
tains,"  said  the  reporter,  blithely. 

"  And  who  is  to  confront  Miss  Blair  with 
it?" 

"You,  of  course,  Elizabeth,"  said  Mrs. 
Seymour  at  once. 

"  I  took  it  for  granted  that  you  would  do 
that,  Mrs.  Nichols,"  said  Mr.  Baker,  in  a  tone 
of  surprise.  "  But  if  you  think  I  ought 
to- 

"  If  anyone  does  it,  it  will  be  I,"  said  Eliz 
abeth,  interrupting  him  almost  fiercely.  "  I 
must  ask  you,  Mr.  Baker,  as  a  particular 
favor,  never  to  breathe  a  word  to  her  on  the 
subject — to  her  or  to  anyone  else." 

"  I  shall  obey  your  directions  implicitly," 
said  Mr.  Baker,  with  a  sweeping  bow.  "I 
have  tried  to  please  you,  Mrs.  Nichols,  and 
to  live  up  to  the  spirit  of  our  compact.  If  I 
have  failed  to  satisfy  you  I  am  very  sorry." 

Elizabeth  blushed  deeply.  It  was  at  the 
word  "  compact."  But  the  pathetic  solici 
tude  of  his  tone  awakened  her  sense  of  jus 
tice.  She  put  out  her  hand  and  said,  "  Good 
night,  Mr.  Baker  ;  you  have  been  extremely 
kind  and  —  and  ingenious,  and  if  matters 
have  taken  a  somewhat  different  turn  than  I 


308  BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK 

expected,  it  is  only  I  who  am  to  blame. 
Good-night." 

Mr.  Baker  looked  a  little  nonplussed. 
"  And  the  photograph  ?  "  he  said.  "  It  would 
be  a  very  simple  matter  to  destroy  it,  and  no 
one  would  be  the  wiser.  Maretta  might  pos 
sibly  be  disappointed,  but  I  could  tell  her  it 
was  a  failure." 

"  Destroy  it  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Seymour ;  "  and 
let  the  infernal  villain  escape  after  all  ? 
Never !  I  wish  one,  at  any  rate,  if  only  as  a 
memento  of  the  faithlessness  of  man." 

Mrs.  Nichols  smiled  a  tired  smile.  "  I 
shall  expect  you  to  send  me  the  photograph 
as  soon  as  possible,  and  to  me  only,"  she  re 
plied,  with  quiet  dignity.  "  Come,  Tom." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Mr.  Baker. 
"I  am  sure  Maretta  won't  mind." 

Two  days  later  the  photograph  reached 
Mrs.  Nichols  at  the  breakfast-table,  and  on 
the  following  day  Signer  Spazzopalli  left 
town.  Society  declared  that  he  had  been 
amusing  himself  with  Miss  Minerva  Blair, 
and  that  he  had  gone  away  without  offering 
himself  to  her.  Society,  feeling  sure  that 
this  was  so,  gave  a  passing  shrug  of  the 


BY  HOOK  OR  CROOK  309 

shoulders,  and  forgot  the  affair  before  twenty- 
four  hours  had  passed.  Mrs.  Duncan  Sey 
mour,  however,  was  not  so  well  off  as  society, 
in  that  she  felt  doubts  on  the  subject  but 
knew  nothing.  She  compared  notes  with 
Mr.  Irving  K.  Baker  with  unsatisfactory  re 
sults.  It  appeared  that  Mrs.  Nichols  had  not 
seen  fit  to  inform  either  of  them  whether  she 
had  shown  Minerva  the  photograph  or  not. 
Tom  Nichols  declared  to  his  wife  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family  that  this  was  fitting 
enough  so  far  as  Mrs.  Seymour  was  con 
cerned,  but  seemed  rather  severe  on  the 
author  and  originator  of  it  all.  But  Eliza 
beth  shook  her  head,  and  said  : 

"  Irving  K.  Baker  shah1  never  know.  You 
left  it  to  me  to  decide  whether  to  tell  Mi 
nerva  or  not,  and  I  mean  to  keep  him  won 
dering  all  the  days  of  his  life  as  to  what 
really  happened." 


14  DAY  USE 

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